


The Armistice Act

by rainsrabble



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Forced Marriage, Marriage Law Challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-27 03:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13872453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainsrabble/pseuds/rainsrabble
Summary: The next generation will be half blood or not at all. An over-reaching marriage law is passed.





	1. For The Greater Good

“Have you lost your damn mind?”

 

Kingsley Shacklebolt lurched to his feet and even backpedaled a bit as Hermione Granger stormed his office, a whirlwind of fury and wild hair that would have frightened anyone. That was what he told himself as he straightened his spine and tried to look dignified as she slammed a crumpled copy of the paper down on his desk with both hands. 

 

“Miss Granger, I don’t believe we had an appointment,” he tried to break in and calm the situation, making eye contact with his frantic secretary who had followed the young woman in, trying to explain that she couldn’t just go barging in. Hermione ignored them both, obviously having something to say.

 

“Of all the foul, loathsome, backwards things this ministry has ever done this might well be the worst. Muggle-borns are not broodmares for your amusement, Minister,” she spat his title like a bad word, “and if you think for one hot second I will allow you to sell us into slavery I’ll have grounds to have you removed from your post for insanity.” 

 

Security moved in, 37 second response time, and Hermione drew her wand with a fearless snap. Kingsley pulled his composure around himself like a set of warm robes and let his voice ring out with authority. He was the Minister of Magic and he would have control over his own office. “I’m sure violence will not be necessary. Miss Granger take a seat. I can give you five minutes of my time today, and then I must attend to other matters.”

 

The seconds creeped by just a little too long. Just long enough to remind him that, although Hermione was known for being the most level-headed of her peers, when she did decide to break rules she felt ruthlessly justified. None of them could be coerced, controlled, or condemned, but it behooved one to remember that Miss Granger was the reason that Potter’s little rebellions were always actually successful, not just teenage tantrums. 

 

Finally, she did take a chair,  regal as a queen, with her wand gripped firmly in her right hand as though she had every right to threaten the minister. Security waffled, not wanting to assault her, wanting her to follow some protocol, unsure what to do about her since she was who she was, and she knew it. 

 

He sat as well, preparing his tongue for the explanation he had practiced. At some point, he knew he would have to explain this bill to prominent Muggleborns. He just hadn’t expected one to dodge security and storm his office 8 minutes after the paper was released. 

 

He should have expected her.

 

“Miss Granger, you and I both know that Voldemort was neither the beginning nor the end of his ideas. A twisted mind and great power was a vehicle for a dangerous ideology that plagues our people. We owe our children better. And this is how we will do it. We will stamp them out. We will irradiate the notion of pureblood superiority. This is a sickness, an infection. It must be lanced and drained for our society to heal. Sometimes you need to cut deep to reach the heart of the matter.” 

 

“Do not give me that nonsense. You can’t legislate out people’s prejudices and ideas! All you are doing is handing these people a way to enslave Muggleborns legally so that we don’t have another war for power.” She hissed at him so venomously that he thought there ought to be steam boiling out of her ears. 

 

“Please don’t be so overly dramatic; it’s beneath you.” He scoffed at her, remembering his cause, remembering how these three refused Ministry help and caused the war to drag on needlessly. He owed this girl nothing, not even a meeting. It was a kindness to explain himself to her, but if she wouldn’t let her level head accept pure logic then there was nothing he could do. The populous may love her, but they had also loved Gilderoy Lockheart. It was good to remember that the masses did not understand what it took to run a country. 

 

“That law is very carefully crafted to protect all parties involved equally. This generation is already deeply scared and damaged. Coming together in bonds of Marriage is a timeless and battle-proven technique to diffuse tensions of war. The next generation will be half-blood or not at all and this particular war will be put to the history books only to be remembered on a test.” 

 

She stood, knocking her chair back a full foot and rucked up her sleeve to show him her arm where there were the remains of a very faint scar that had resisted magical removal. Mudblood, jaggedly scrawled across the flesh. “Don’t tell me I’m being dramatic. Unlike the general populous, I’ve been up close and personal with these people.” 

 

“Yes, I recall you repeatedly ran off to duel with Death Eaters.” He said calmly, refusing to give her the courtesy of standing while she was throwing a temper tantrum. “You will recall that those particular types of people are either dead or in prison. We are talking about a younger generation. Children, who were thrown to the wolves, just as you were. Kids, brainwashed by their own parents, too young to really understand the repercussions of their false beliefs and actions. I believe you testified to that effect at the Malfoy trial, yes?”

 

Hermione stared at him, panting and furious, before pulling her sleeve down, gathering her paper, and storming out of his office. The slamming of the door caused papers to stir and the people within to jump a bit. But then then there was blessed silence and Kingsley began to tidy his desk methodically. She was a clever girl: things would become clear to her eventually. This was all for the greater good. 


	2. To The Library!

Hermione arrived a day early at Hogwarts via the portkey she had been using all summer. She had worked hard amongst the restoration crew and only felt slightly guilty about abusing her privilege and skipping the train ride.  She had no desire to sit for several hours amongst her peers and discuss this disastrous mandate the ministry had passed. Even now, a full two days after the law had been published, she was still in a state of shock about it.

 

A marriage law designed to force Purebloods and Muggle-borns to marry and procreate just seemed too farfetched to be be real. Even with as backwards and antiquated as the ministry’s laws and policies were, this was extreme. The penalties were even more unbelievable. Either comply or abjure your magic. She’d be willing to go to prison, do hard labor, be fined. But give up her magic? Be obliviated and turned loose among the muggles with no idea about who she really was? A fate worse than death. 

 

Just thinking about it had her blood boiling as she made her way to the newly refurbished library. She was smartly dressed in her school robes, mourning a bit the loss of her prefect badge. As a repeating 7 th year student she was not eligible to be a prefect, or Head Girl. She felt a little sad about it, but she had learned last year that there were more important things than school and grades and awards. Still, she had wanted to be Head Girl. 

 

The boys were joining her later. Harry and Ron had gone to the ministry to put a bride price down for her. A disgusting clause of the law allowed suitors to bid for her like a piece of meat. It made her sick, but Ron was Pureblood so they might as well get it over with. Doing the paperwork early to be in compliance with the law meant they could put all their focus on getting it repealed. Thank God she had someone to bid on her. She could just imagine being some young muggleborn trying to get a pureblood boy to agree to wed her so she could stay in the wizarding world. Disgusting!

 

Nonetheless, her schedule was full, and she had enough to be getting on with on figuring out how to go about getting a law repealed. She’d already contacted the Order of the Phoenix, half the Wizengamot, and every person of influence she was acquainted with. They were shockingly unhelpful. 

 

It was painfully clear that if she was going to tackle this law she was on her own. So it was research time. The Hogwarts book collection outshone her own by leagues even after the damage from last year. So, she set about finding relevant texts and articles. 

 

It was after eleven when the boys joined her. 

 

She looked up from her bullet pointed list, making sure that every clause and sanction in the law was carefully outlined. She had two other lists, one with possible legal refutes for individual clauses, and one with practical concerns about implementation. The Ministry was often sorely woeful when it came to loopholes and abuses of their current laws.

 

The look on Ron’s face had her coming to her feet and grasping her wand. Harry was just as ashen, and she knew something awful had happened. Something much worse than this law. She came around the table on tottering legs, making it several steps before she was able to gasp out a question.

 

“You might want to sit back down,” Harry said softly as Ron just shook his head, his eyes even bluer with the sheen of wetness from held back tears. 

 

“What! What is it?” Hermione almost shouted, spiraling down into panic with no apparent enemy to keep her focus.

 

“It’s your bride price Hermione. It’s already so high that I don’t think I have enough to cover it,” Harry continued, his voice soft and soothing. Hermione blinked at him, not really understanding. “You are at the very top of the list, leagues ahead of any other Muggle-born Witch. The price is high and climbing.” 

 

She sank into a random chair behind her slowly. This didn’t make any sense at all. She was hardly bid worthy. She had assumed Ron would be her only suitor. It wasn’t like Wizards were beating her door down demanding dates. And everyone knew she was dating Ron. She didn’t have much going on other than being reasonably clever. Why on earth would there be such high bidding on her?

 

“Death Eaters?” She whispered, her worst fears coming to fruition on the very first day. The only thing she could think of to cause this was Voldemort supporters wanting to get access to her. How could the Ministry allow this? How could they be so short-sighted and stupid? 

 

“The bids are anonymous,” Harry said rolling his eyes as he slid out another chair and sat opposite her. “Which of course means everyone knows. The word at the Ministry is that the Malfoy’s have declared they will outbid anyone who puts your name down.” 

 

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Hermione snapped, temper rising. “I testified for them. We all did! They surely can’t be mad that we didn’t testify for Lucius as well! He belongs in Azkaban. Why those slimy, inbred,…”

 

“Maybe they think they are doing you a favor.” Ron finally spoke up. His voice was soft and his face was as ashen as she had ever seen it. “Some of the families who are bidding on you are pretty nasty. We’ve been there watching all morning. The Carrows were furious when they were outbid. They have a male cousin who didn’t get arrested that is eligible. The Dolohovs, the McNairs. Old families. Lots of money and power.”  

 

Hermione gaped at him, surprised, and she watched as one tear escaped his long black lashes and wet a cheek. He took another wet breath and went on. “I don’t know what to do to help you. I hate being grateful to the damn Malfoys for anything, but I don’t know what else anyone can do but outbid these people.”

 

Speak of the devil. The door to the library opened and Hermione turned expectantly. The regular students were not there yet so she expected a teacher. She should have known that rules wouldn’t apply to Draco Malfoy. He strode in confidently, just as arrogant as she had last seen him, at his trial. He was dressed predictably, head to toe in black, shiny shoes clicking smartly as he strode up to them.

 

He tossed several folders on the table next to her and took a seat amongst them as if he was a long-time friend instead of someone who had never in their life sat at the same table. 

 

Speechless, Hermione gathered up the folders and began to look through them just to have somewhere to look other than at Draco Malfoy. 

 

“What’s all this?” She asked. 

 

“Copy of the contract, so you can sign the damn thing before this bidding war ends up leaving me destitute. Contact information for all the lawyers the Malfoys have on retainer, completely at your disposal. All the private research done on the law and its loopholes so far. A list of officials who are vulnerable to pressure from us. A list of obscure laws that apply to my family specifically.” He drawled off as if listing the ingredients to bran muffins and Hermione couldn’t help but stare at him, her mouth slightly open. 

 

“My mother has made an appointment for you with Almond Dippant,” Malfoy motioned to the folder on top, meticulously labeled Almond Dippant. “He’s a well-respected Muggle-born attorney. We’ve never used him before so there is no conflict of interest to have him go over the contract and represent your estate. She’s offered to go with you, if you don’t have anyone else.”  

 

His eyes were as cold and clear as she had ever seen them. If he was the least bit upset to be discussing a marriage contract between the two of them it certainly didn’t show, at all.  “I don’t have an estate,” she said stupidly and was rewarded with an eye roll that conveyed several paragraphs worth of his thoughts on the subject.

He sneered at her a bit, glanced at her two friends who were also standing there stupidly silent, and went on. “How much progress have you lot made on getting us out of this ridiculous Marriage Law?” 

 

“You bid on me,” Hermione couldn’t wrap her head around it. “You are bidding on me. Like chattel.” 

 

“Come on Granger! I didn’t write the damn law.” He snapped, slamming a hand on the table so hard it made her jump in her skin. “Go snipe at the Ministry about your human rights if you’re sore about it. I need you to get your head on straight. Quit being all emotional and useless and tell me what you need from us to get this law repealed.” 

She sure as hell didn't want Malfoy for a husband, but she’d take him for an ally. Seeing as how they were so thin on the ground right now.  She closed her mouth with a snap and looked down at the folders. “All right. I need to go through all this stuff and finish up my own preliminary research. We can all meet back here at 2:00 tomorrow.” 

 

“Your appointment with the lawyer is at 10:00 AM. Don’t be late.” Malfoy said, getting the last word as he stood. She ought to protest, say something to the effect that she wasn’t going, but he was already leaving and she refused to chase after him. Instead she watched him strut out of the library, all suave confidence, as smoothly as he had strutted in. She turned to her friends, finding the same amazed look stamped on both of their faces, before opening the first folder.

 

 


	3. Encroachment

Hermione got three hours of restless sleep, tops. She couldn’t help going over the marriage law in her mind over and over again. Every clause and stipulation had a new and special meaning now that it was linked with Draco Malfoy in her mind. That law was very specific about things like cohabitation, fidelity, copulation. 

 

She could not even reconcile her mind to Draco Malfoy kissing her, much less bedding her. Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured it. Draco Malfoy smirking at her before kissing her. His lips cold and hard. His eyes wide open. Barely touching her. How could any reasonable person expect her to be carnal with someone who despised her so much? The thought of sex outside of love was one thing. But the thought of stripping naked for someone who loathed her was aberrant. He thought she was filthy. She couldn’t bear it. There was no way she could sign that contract he had drawn up. 

 

She’d gone over it a dozen times holed up in her new space. One of the overflow rooms of Gryffindor tower which had been shut up and locked for years. With so many 7th year repeats they had needed to open up additional spaces and this was one of them. She couldn’t find anything inappropriate about the contract. In fact, it was wildly different than she had expected. Not one word about virginity or her dirty blood or her working after marriage. It was actually very reasonable. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t signing it. The thought of kissing Malfoy had her in hives, she wasn’t about to wed him. 

 

The alternatives were shockingly unappealing. One option was to select a different suitor and sign a different contract. There was a time-span between bids of one hour to give her a short window to select the high bidder before he was outbid. Theoretically, she could wait for one of the other bidders to be on top and sign a contract ending the bidding. Ron didn’t have enough, even with Harry’s help, to outbid Malfoy even once. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d be willing to get naked with who even came close. Option two, abjure her magic. She could have her memory wiped and be returned to the Muggle World. Finally, she could sit on her hands and wait for a better option to present itself. 

 

The last looming hope was repeal. 

 

Finally, she gave up on sleep. The few times she had drifted off her dreams had been full of cold grey eyes and silver blond hair and twisted smirks. She clambered out of her tiny twin bed and scowled around her space, locating her trunk. She was definitely going to miss her luxurious four-poster bed. The overflow room was cramped and small and she had to take an extra thirty stairs just to reach it. Her privacy was not worth the trade in space and comfort. But the school was accommodating nearly double their 7th-year students as best they could.

 

She had skipped the welcome feast the night before, not wanting to deal with the drama and gossip that was bound to be rampant about this new law. But today she would have to get her routine on. There was an 8:00 mandatory meeting for seventh-year students about the law. Then she wanted to reach out to Malfoy’s legal team and set up some meetings. She had a feeling she needed to propose some sort of alternative that would work to achieve the Ministry’s goals and at this point, nothing came to her mind. They wanted to wipe out purebloods. 

 

The scale of this law had her chewing her lip and doubting what she could do. The information Malfoy had provided had been quite illuminating. It wasn’t just Britain that was involved. The Ministry had coordinated with governments all around the world. She couldn’t just up and move to America to avoid the law. It wasn’t just her own convoluted government that needed to be persuaded; it was all of them. 

 

Still, she had to start somewhere. So, she gathered up clean robes and her bath things and went on down to the communal bathroom to wash her hair. She had half a mind to run on down to the prefects' bathroom and see if the password had changed since last week...but she wasn’t a prefect and it wouldn’t be right to use the facility even if she got the door open.  She would have to make due with the Gryffindor communal rooms that always smelled a little like mould and hair products.

 

Freshly scrubbed, she rushed her way downstairs to the dining room, hoping to beat most of Gryffindor to breakfast. They were notoriously late sleepers. She was dismayed however to find the dining hall full of students chattering busily. Obviously, the promise of fresh gossip was enough to pull even the laziest kids from their beds on time. 

 

Before she could make it to the table her arm was taken by none other than Theodore Nott. “Granger,” he greeted quite casually. “Could I have a moment of your time?” She slowed and looked up at him quite confused.

 

“I’m not a prefect this year, Nott, you will need to get someone else to help you.”

 

He laughed, a low amused sound, that put her back up immediately, and she casually removed her arm from his grip. “I’m aware of that Granger. I wanted to give you a copy of the marriage contract my family has submitted to the ministry and see if you could spare some time over lunch this week to meet with my family. It’s a little unorthodox, but no one has been able to locate your parents and we are not sure who is representing you legally.” 

 

She gaped at him stupidly, trying to process what he had said, but just as she opened her mouth to reply they were joined by Blaise Zabini. “Really Nott? Pouncing on the girl before she has even sat down to breakfast. How uncouth.” Blaise gave her a charming smile that had certainly never been levelled in her direction, showing all his teeth. “Miss Granger, may I escort you to breakfast?”

 

She edged back a bit, thinking she ought to just pop on down to the kitchens for some toast when another person suddenly was crowding in on her left. “Miss Granger,” the short bespectacled man reached out and shook her hand quite rudely. “My name is Leland Oswald. I represent the Selwyn estate. My firm has been trying to reach you quite unsuccessfully. I’d like to arrange a meeting as soon as possible. Do you have any openings in your schedule today?”

 

Hermione was beginning to wonder if she would have to use her wand to get out of this situation when the rather unwelcome drawl of Draco Malfoy came from over her shoulder. “My fiancé’s lack of availability due to her excellent security does not give you leave to harass her before breakfast.”

 

Hermione turned a bit to give him a foul look, but he was ignoring her. She was startled to realize just how close he was to her. Just a hairsbreadth behind her, literally looming over her. How had she missed his approach? She was now quite rudely boxed in on all sides and not at all happy. This was a thoroughly insane situation. She glanced over at the staff table and noted that they were watching, but no one had made any move to come to her aid.

“She’s accepted your proposal then?” Blaise smirked condescendingly, and Hermione sidestepped away from all of them, trying to edge around the group so she could escape this madness. 

 

“She will.” Malfoy gave Blaise one of those cutting cold smiles that made her skin crawl and reached out a hand to stop her retreat. She was so shocked that she stood still and did not jerk her arm free. He was touching her. Draco Malfoy had his hand on her. “Until then you can direct any correspondence to her legal representation, Almond Dippant. If you will excuse us, I believe Miss Granger was trying to get to her breakfast table unmolested.” 

 

He pulled her in close to his body, his hip bumping her hip, and pushed right through the crowd roughly, clearing a way for her, his grip on her causing her to trot with him. She stupidly glanced back at her “suitors” and was not at all cheered to see the hateful black stares directed at her and Malfoy.

 

“What the utter fuck!” She said under her breath, lengthening her stride to keep up with Malfoy who wasn’t stopping and wasn’t letting go, his grip was gentle but firm and she’d have to twist to get out of it. He slowed a bit, giving her a sidelong glance. The warmth of his fingers bleeding through her robes was shocking. It made sense that he would be warm like any other living person, but she’d always associated him with coldness, pretty like snow, but icy to the touch. 

 

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth,” he hissed snidely, his voice pitched not to carry, and she smiled her most obnoxious know-it-all grin back toward him as they arrived at her table. Never had 30 feet been wrought with so much tension and drama. The head table wasn’t the only one staring and she wanted to scream at them. Instead, she took a page out of Malfoy’s book and tried to be cool and ignore them, twisting towards him to answer his question.

“Twice on Sundays.”

He stared at her for a handful of heartbeats. Still touching her, looming. She couldn’t remember ever being so close to him outside of a full-on Gryffindor/Slytherin confrontation. And here they were, having a close conversation. As if they knew each other at all. She wanted to step back, gain distance, and repossess her arm. But she didn’t want to make a scene or give him the satisfaction of knowing his touch bothered her. The heat of his body stretched across the mere inches between them and the ridiculously lovely scent of his cologne wafted around them. 

 

“See you at 2:00.” He finally said and she realized the stretch of time was out of proportion in her mind. No matter. He was releasing her and striding away and the only thing to do was to turn and climb over the bench to join her classmates and have a scone. 

 

“You  _ are _ marrying Draco Malfoy!” Lavender Brown declared loud enough to be heard quite clearly across three quidditch fields. “Wow! You do move quick.”

 

Hermione was instantly offended by her rude tone, her cattish statement so she rolled her eyes and used her best I’m-better-than-you voice. “I haven't moved anything. This is all news to me as much as any of you. I haven't even spoken to my lawyer yet.” 

 

She hated being grateful to the Malfoys for a damn thing but having legal representation made her feel a little less like a small boat in a large ocean. She hadn’t planned on going to the consultation at all, now she was literally clinging to that 10:00 appointment like a lifeline.

“Oh, please. Like you did nothing to have all of these rich powerful men courting you?” she scoffed, and Hermione put some jam on her biscuit as she climbed to her feet. Too disgusted to sit at the table any longer.

 

“Is that what we are calling it? Being courted? Being bid on like chattel and slavered over like a piece of meat is courting now? No thank you. This law is trash and so is anyone who romanticizes it.” She tossed the biscuit onto a plate and reached for some bacon and a glass of juice to complete her breakfast as she clambered off the bench seat. She took her breakfast and stomped out of the room, leveling her best glare at anyone who looked like they might approach her.

 

* * *

 

Much Love to Kessymaniak who was kind enough to go through and Beta this Chapter. Big Thanks!

  
  



	4. Practical Knowledge

She was early to the 8:00 meeting. So she sat alone and chewed her nails a bit. Ron and Harry had made it sound like a pile of death eaters were bidding on her. She was sure that was true, but the Zabinis had been neutral. The Selwyns had left the country in order to avoid the conflict. Why on earth were they bidding on her? To gain good press because of her connection to Harry Potter?

 

And yes she had testified for Draco Malfoy, alongside Harry and Ron. But his family was hardly the altruistic type. He wasn’t bidding on her out of misplaced loyalty or gratefulness.  He had some sort of unknown agenda as well. She felt like she’d been tossed into the middle of a chess game where the stakes were her life and she didn’t know how any of the pieces moved.

Ron and Harry were also early and took seats on either side of her. They both leaned in so they could have a quick whispered conversation. “I heard what happened at breakfast.”

“What exactly did you hear?” She whispered, wondering how things had been spun.

 

“Just that multiple suitors approached you aggressively the second you poked your head into public,” Ron sneered. “And that you had to be rescued by Malfoy of all people. Why didn’t you just hex them?”

 

“Ron, I can’t just hex other students for talking to me. I’d get kicked out of school. And Malfoy didn’t rescue me, he just showed up before I could figure out how to handle the situation and told them off for rudeness. It was hardly a white knight situation,” she hissed back.

 

“Well, we need to figure out a better way to handle it than sodding Malfoy,” Harry put in, equally scowly. “Let’s do the power in numbers thing until you get a handle on it.”

 

She wanted to argue back that she hardly needed bodyguards to protect her from false flirting from purebloods but McGonagall called for order so she got out her notebook and paid attention.

 

“Good Morning Students. I’ve called you here to discuss the new marriage law, formally known as The Armistice Act, recently signed into law. No doubt most of you have skimmed this law and know the basic clauses. If you have not, I strongly encourage you to do so, as this law directly affects each and every one of you. We are here to go over how those clauses are currently being implemented by this school and by the Ministry so that you can conduct yourselves accordingly. I can not offer legal advice and would strongly advise you to consult with a solicitor regarding your individual situation.” 

 

McGonagall went over the law quite thoroughly, not really giving her a scrap of information she didn’t already know from her own research. 14 pages of disgusting drivel boiled down to five basic principles:

 

  1. All single people of marrying legal age under 75 had to be in compliance and married to a suitable partner within 90 days. 
  2. The degree of pureblood in your direct family tree determined who you were eligible to partner with. Everyone had been assigned a Pureblood percentage score and that score determined who you could be paired with. Her score was a bewildering 6% pureblood...meaning that somewhere in her line was some connection to Wizarding heritage. How they knew this and how many generations were included in the calculation was not disclosed. The scores had to add up to at least a 90, so she could pair with an 84% or above. That left her far fewer options than someone with a higher score. Ronald had an 88% score...so he was eligible to pair with her, but the number of boys who scored that high were rare. There was a reprehensible bidding system in place for witches that had more than one suitor.  
  3. Marriages were to be legally binding, consummated, and partners were to cohabitate.  
  4. Birth control was strictly forbidden and at least one child was to be produced within five years. There would be ministry oversight to determine if the couple was giving due diligence to produce a child and to make sure none of the marriage sanctions were violated, specifically paternity of said child. 
  5. The penalties for non-compliance were harsh, up to and including snapping of wands, oblivion, and release to the muggle population. 



 

The law was being marketed as a ceasefire. An old-fashioned Armistice. Her research had revealed precedent. The minister had not been lying when he had said that arranged marriages had been used for centuries to negotiate peace. Usually, it was just one marriage. A sacrifice made on each side as a sign of goodwill and trust. You didn’t send your daughter off to marry the prince of a country you intended to bomb. 

 

The sheer scope and magnitude of expecting everyone to marry someone from the opposing side, it was mind-boggling. Certainly nothing like this had ever been done and she had no idea how they had managed to negotiate the damn thing, get everyone to agree with it, and sign it into law in complete secrecy.

 

There were too many moving parts, too many variables to even begin to predict the long-term results of this insane legislation, and that was if the whole thing went according to plan, which she highly doubted. 

 

The plan that the administration had constructed to comply with the law mostly centered on cohabitation, copulation with one’s spouse,  and trying to avoid abuses of power. There were some interesting solutions, including a way to report one’s partner for abuses and sanctions to be placed on partners who were abusive. 

 

Also, she now understood the construction going on behind the castle. Cottages were being erected to accommodate married couples. At least she’d have more room than her tiny cramped overflow space she found herself thinking rather uncharitably as she doodled on her paper. This meeting was a waste of time, she could have just sent the boys. 

 

At least she had a good excuse to leave early. She had her meeting with the solicitor. At the appropriate time, she had a quick word with McGonagall about where she was going and headed on out to Hogsmeade, which was the closest floo network. 

 

Malfoy was waiting for her next to the front gates. Leaned up against one of the stone pillars absently playing with a golden snitch. For a moment she was struck by what a boy thing it was to do, then he looked up at her with that glacial stare of his and she was reminded that he was nothing like other boys. 

 

“You are supposed to be at the mandatory meeting.” She said, foregoing any type of greeting. It wasn’t like they were friends. 

 

He gave her a look, as if she were thick, and she felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. She bit back the desire to clarify, staying stubbornly silent and refusing to allow him to communicate with solely snooty looks. He might get away with that dramatic posturing amongst his Slytherin cohorts but she would not be giving him the satisfaction. Something warmed in his gaze, almost amusement, and he pushed off the pillar to his full standing height, putting away the snitch. 

 

“Did I miss anything vital?” He asked and Hermione bit her tongue in frustration. He had not actually. The abuse sanction policy would be distributed to every student and posted in each common room. He’d find out about the cottages through gossip faster than you could say Quidditch, and everything else that had been covered was already detailed out in the research he had given her. She wisely chose to change the subject to something worth discussing. 

 

“Why are you bidding on me? Don’t give me that trying to save me drivel that Ron and Harry seem to have bought into either. I know you would take great pleasure in watching me taken down a peg or six.” She put her fists on her hips and started up at him. Annoyed by his height and his perfect posture and his expensive clothes. Annoyed that his expression was annoyingly scrunched and his eyes were clear of the malice she had come to expect of him. “What’s in it for you, Malfoy?”

 

Anger sparked in his gaze and she was glad of it. This politeness, no matter how cold, that he was directing at her was making her wary. She didn’t know what his game was, only that she didn’t want to play it. He took a step nearer to her and she was forced to crane her head back, refusing to be intimidated by his size. She gripped her wand in her pocket for comfort and gave him her worst glare.

 

His eyes flickered momentarily to her pocket and she wished she hadn’t gone for her wand. Somehow it seemed like weakness. And that tinge of amusement from before was slipping back into his expression, though his voice was as cold and haughty as she had ever heard it when he answered her question. 

 

“It’s not a character flaw to have well thought out and nuanced reasons for every action,” she could hear the unspoken slur on Gryffindors in his tone. “I have many reasons for bidding on you including the fact that you testified on my behalf in front of the Wizengamot. My family always pays its debts, Granger.”

 

“I didn’t testify for you because I wanted you to owe me Malfoy,” she stamped her foot in frustration. “I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

 

“You don’t think protecting a classmate and war hero I’ve known for 7 years is the right thing to do?” He gave her a sardonic grin and ran one hand through his perfectly groomed hair. Another boy gesture she was not entirely comfortable seeing on him. “I think the truth is, that it makes you uncomfortable. You don’t like to think that maybe, just maybe, I’m doing something just because it’s what I should. You want to keep me and my family carefully assigned to the bad guy category so you can maintain your own moral superiority.”

 

She sputtered angrily and tried to protest the ridiculousness of that statement. She had proven, after all, that she was not so narrow-minded when she had testified on his behalf despite his atrocious behavior over the years. She had acknowledged, in public and on record, that Malfoy’s set of circumstances had left him few choices and had really forced him along the path of darkness. But he ignored her and spoke over her.

 

“Will it help you come to terms with reality if I give you another good reason? Something more selfishly motivated. Something more in line with the behavior you would expect from a bad evil Malfoy.” He gave her his patented condescending sneer and rolled his eyes. “If there is anyone to be given a pass on this law it’s you. Gryffindor's sweet golden girl. War Hero and beloved muggleborn Hermione Granger. You and your friends have never had to adhere to the same rules and standards as the rest of us. If you manage to squirrel out of this law, I intend to be fully latched onto your coattails to come along for the ride. Good enough reason for you?” 

 

She gaped at him for a heartbeat, aware that his logic was sound and yet offended by his perception that she might get out of the law just because of who she was. In the dark corners of her mind she had thought the same thing. What did that say about her? Conversation with him had a different dynamic than she was used to. A cutting preciseness that she found both abrasive and exciting. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she was drawing her breath a little too quickly, her emotions running a little too high. 

 

She forced herself to take a calming deep breath, aware again of how nice he smelled. Remembered those scattered dreams of him touching her, found herself looking at his surprisingly full lips. She wanted to argue his points, defend herself, but there was nothing to be gained from it. What she wanted was information, so she twisted the subject, tried to set him off balance, went straight to the heart of the matter. “And if we don’t get the law repealed? If we have to go through with it? What then?” 

 

Her voice was a strangled whisper and she swallowed hard when he took a step closer and was once again in her space. She craned her neck back a little farther to maintain eye contact and wet her suddenly dry lips. This was so inappropriate. Wondering just what it would be like to be kissed by Draco Malfoy. But now that the idea had formed in her mind it didn’t appear to have any interest in vacating. He smiled at her, a slow Cheshire grin that had every nerve in her body on edge. White even teeth, fresh minty breath. “Well, I guess, I will have wed the best muggleborn witch money can buy in all of Hogwarts.” 

 

Hermione took a step back from him, both emotionally and physically and assumed her most brisk prefect voice. “Don’t be ridiculous Malfoy, you can’t possibly be actually considering this. Surely, there are more suitable candidates for you in case this plan to repeal the law goes sideways.” 

 

He didn’t dispute this fact, instead pulling out his pocket watch and reminding her of the time. She let out a soft curse and turned away from him to get on to her appointment, but to her dismay, he stretched his long legs to catch up and fell in beside her. “I don’t need company.”

 

He gave her a sidelong look out of one eye before replying. “This morning made me think you ought to have an escort, I can arrange for security for you during future outings if you would prefer.” 

 

She came to a halt and spun to face him, needing to set clear boundaries right away. “I’m not interested in security or an escort. Thank you for your concern but I will be just fine.”

 

“Go ahead, be fine. I’m going to Almond Dippant’s office, you can feel free to accompany me if you would like.” Hermione seethed in frustration as she spun around and stalked down the walkway towards Hogsmeade with him easily keeping pace with her. She ignored him soundly, refusing to even look in his direction and chance seeing that coldly amused look from earlier. People turned and stared at them as they marched through the sparsely populated streets of Hogsmeade on their way to the inn and Hermione was so frustrated she wanted to shout at them to mind their own ruddy business. Being seen “out” with Draco Malfoy was not acceptable.

 

He reached out a long arm to pull the door of the inn open for her like he was a gentleman instead of an entitled swot and she forgot herself enough to give him a glare. He answered with an amused smile and she took the opportunity to rush ahead of him to be first at the floo. She grabbed a handful of dust, tossed it in the fireplace and stepped inside all before the door had swung shut behind him. The last thing she saw before she began to spin through the green flames was Draco Malfoy laughing at her. 

* * *

 

Much Love to Kessymaniak who was kind enough to go through and Beta this Chapter. Big Thanks!


	5. A Pile of Difficult

The second Hermione stepped out of the floo, she wished she had not come. The floors gleamed, the arches arched, the place literally reeked of money, and she was certain that the modest funds in her purse would not even cover a consultation. No sooner was she thinking about turning right back around, she was greeted by name and welcomed into the sitting room. Apparently, when the Malfoys made an appointment you did not sit on uncomfortable chairs in a noisy waiting room. Instead, you were ushered in immediately and offered refreshments. 

 

Almond Dippant was delighted to meet her and at her disposal. A portly man in a tailored suit with a touch of grey at his temples and kind eyes, he looked very professional which only added to her anxiety. Hermione could barely get out pleasantries because she was so off balance and nervous. She sat uneasily on the edge of her seat and goggled at the mess of files that apparently consisted of her case. He gently inquired if she had narrowed down the suitors she wanted to consider today, and she was quite embarrassed to admit she didn’t know for sure the extent of suitors who were still in the running. 

 

Much to her relief, he was prepared for such a scenario and presented her with a magical document that updated every time a bid was placed on her behalf at the ministry. She noted that the Malfoy name was blazoned in gold at the top, followed closely by the Selwyns and the Zabinis. The amount lettered precisely next to each entry was mind-blowing. They couldn’t seriously be bidding this much for her.

“Who gets this money?” she blurted out, insanely curious. 

 

“You do.”

 

“This money goes to me?”

 

“Well, not all of it, of course. A hefty percentage goes to the Ministry in order to pay administrative costs, and a percentage is being donated to restoration funds for damages caused by the war. But, traditionally, a bride price goes to the bride's family. Since your family is all Muggle, that just leaves you.”

 

Hermione scowled. These scumbag Ministry weasels were literally buying people, and making purebloods pay for it, to fund their ministry. She vowed to look precisely into where the percentage that the Ministry was skimming off the top was going. If her love of history had taught her anything, it was that you only needed to follow the money to unearth corruption. 

 

“I’ve compiled a file for each of your suitors. I am prepared to discuss specific family clauses that will affect you as well as developments that have been made to ministry policy which will possibly affect you in the last twenty-four hours.” Hermione compared the towering stack of paperwork on Mr. Dippant’s desk to the pile of folders back in her room that Malfoy had brought with him, as well as her own research, and was quite overwhelmed.

He seemed to read her mind. “Miss Granger, I am sure you are overwhelmed. However, it is best to move quickly. Each suitor can only be actively bidding on one bride at any given time. This prevents wealthy bidders from holding a monopoly and driving the price up for everyone. What this means for you is that the longer you delay, the fewer choices you will have. I would recommend narrowing your bidders down to a top ten to make the pile more manageable.”

 

“How long have you had my case, Mr. Dippant?” Hermione asked, wondering if the Malfoys had been privy to advance notice. Why the hell were they so interested in her?

 

“The Malfoys contacted me immediately after the law dropped. I’d say within thirty minutes.”

 

He’d done all this in a matter of days. Jesus. He must have been burning the midnight oil. “I can’t imagine how many billable hours you have put into this case, Mr. Dippant, and I must apologize, but I am probably not equipped to pay for all this. I have a modest stipend from my parents but nothing that would cover this type of expense.”

 

Her face was burning with humiliation and shame and she was planning on giving Malfoy another good smack. It had been a while; he was due. The lawyer smiled again at her, a gentle, accepting smile, with no judgement or condescension at all, and suddenly Hermione decided she liked him. 

 

“The law allows for a potential suitor to be responsible for your attorney’s fees, a way to display generosity. The Malfoys have assumed this cost for you.”

 

Hermione frowned, not wanting to be indebted to them. “Does that present a conflict of interest?” 

 

“Not at all, Miss Granger. By law, I only represent  _ your _ interests, and the clause I’m referring to requires that, once the Malfoys extend credit for you, they must pay regardless of the outcome of the bidding process.” He gave her a cheery smile. “They can afford it, no problem. Should we go ahead and start with Mr. Malfoy’s contract since he is on top?” 

 

Curiosity overcame her reluctance and she leaned forward. “Malfoy gave me a copy of the contract, and it seems quite reasonable. Is this a standard contract that I can expect from all my suitors or was the Malfoy contract drawn up individually?” 

 

“Get the Ministry involved and nothing goes smoothly,” Mr.Dippant admitted candidly. “For example, your case has already been complicated by Ministry interference. Mr. Malfoy’s contract has been contested by the Clause Adherence Committee.”

 

She was handed a long document full of legal garbage for her review and she skimmed while he talked. “The law calls for all family traditions and rituals to be adhered to. The ministry is claiming the tradition clause applies to the engagement contract and ceremony. The Malfoys are proposing a simple handfasting, easily broken, stating that the law only specifies the actual marriage ceremony. The Ministry claims the entire process from engagement to marriage is covered and that the Malfoys must use their ancestral engagement ceremony, which is an extremely binding highly magical process.” 

 

He stopped speaking for a moment and patted her hand, a grandfatherly gesture that was almost her undoing. This was just too much! The one thing the Malfoy proposal had going for it was that the contract was reasonable, easily broken, and Malfoy himself was willing to work with her to that end. They couldn’t even let her have that small comfort, that small window of time to dispute this whole thing. They were insisting that a big binding engagement ceremony be used immediately. 

 

Dippant continued, “The families typically guard their ancestral magic quite closely, so I only know what has been available to the Ministry, and that is very little. I’ve been in contact with Mr. Malfoy’s legal team first thing this morning to request more information on both the engagement ritual and the marriage rites, and we are awaiting a response.” 

 

“I’ve taken the liberty of placing contracts with less savory elements to the side and more favorable, reasonable contracts here,” he said, tapping the pile to his left. “Unfortunately, most of these contracts are running into the same ministry interference as the Malfoy contract. They want to make sure that the engagement follows family tradition. Basically, the families are still thinking that the law may be overturned and the Ministry is discouraging any action that allows for a contract to be recalled in the event that happens.” 

 

She slumped, silently staring at her list of suitors, not one of them even remotely appealing. Most of them disturbingly unknown. Why were so many people bidding on her? “Is there some legal advantage to bidding on me?” she asked dully, looking up, trying to read his kind expression.

 

“No legal advantage, no. Some of these bidders are most likely seeking political advantage. You are extremely well known and will likely have some sort of pull with the Ministry. A favorite in the media, your celebrity status might make you more palatable for the old families. Your test scores, grades, and accomplishments were published for consideration as well. A lot of pureblood families traditionally focus on quality of offspring when choosing spouses. It’s not that far off from the normal path for some families who have always had a bride or groom selected by the head of the family.” 

 

That explanation did nothing to settle her stomach.

 

She sighed and decided knowledge was power and started going over her suitors in detail, but she agreed with Mr. Dippant that making a decision without knowing the extent of the engagement requirements was hasty. 

 

The hour struck 11, and she glanced at the charmed parchment with her bidders. The numbers went haywire while her various suitors placed bids. Malfoy had been the high bidder, so he was not able to bid this round. After a mere sixty seconds, the names on the sheet rearranged themselves, and she noted that the Selwyns had edged out in front. She had a one hour window in which she could accept the Selwyn proposal before the bids would be open again. 

 

On paper, the Selwyn family was an excellent match. Neutral in the war, well respected, wealthy. In reality, the thought of marrying a forty-four year old man she had never met who was rumored to be a homosexual left a pretty bitter taste in her mouth. Forcing a gay man to enter into a marriage and copulate with a female to get an heir was an obscene level of evil she was not even going to touch. She set the paper aside. That was definitely not an option. 

 

In fact, most of her suitors went into the “no” pile. She was honestly surprised to see that most of those leftover were people she personally knew. She supposed it was better to go with the devil you knew. The “maybe” pile she was taking with her to look over at her leisure. Mr. Dippant was just making her a new appointment in his book when the hour struck 12, and Hermione grabbed up her magical parchment to take a look. 

 

Draco Malfoy surged to the front of the bidding with an insanely huge bid. How could one person even have that much money? Looking at all of those zeros made her slightly ill. There was no possibility they could even raise enough money for Ron to bid even once. She said goodbye to Mr. Dippant with a heavy heart. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione was very surprised to find Malfoy waiting for her in the waiting room. It had been a two-hour meeting! He had made himself quite comfortable, surrounded by paperwork and sipping tea. He looked up the second she stepped through the door, stood immediately, and began to gather his things. She waited patiently for him as he shrunk the folders he had been looking at and put them in his pocket before taking a hasty last swig of his tea and putting the empty cup down. 

 

It was true that she had known him for seven years. But she didn’t really _ know _ him. She could count the conversations she had had with him on one hand, half of them having taken place in the last two days. She knew he had been willing to betray Hogwarts and contemplate murder to protect his family. She knew that he was insanely clever. She knew he was obnoxiously good looking. She knew that he was rich. But she didn’t know much of anything that the entire wizarding world did not know. When contemplating entering into a marriage, it wasn’t much to go on. 

 

He jogged on over to her, a serious expression on his face, and she found herself rifling through her memories to place that look. She’d seen it before, during lessons sometimes, but it was rare. Usually, when she was looking at him, he was looking back with contempt or dislike, and occasional amusement at her expense. None of that was evident in his expression now, it seemed neutral. If he had any emotions at all about the situation, they were being carefully hidden from her. Hermione wasn’t very good at hiding her emotions and was irrationally irritated that he should have this advantage. 

 

“Listen,” he spoke in a low tone that was not a whisper but definitely intended not to carry. “There is a problem with the contract I gave you.” 

 

“I heard.” She let her eyes flick to Mr. Dippant’s closed door, and he followed her gaze, a widening of his eyes the only indication that he was surprised. She felt an unproportionate sense of relief that he was immediately honest with her. Like their meeting in the library, it felt like he was giving her full disclosure, building trust between them. For a moment, they felt like co-conspirators against the Ministry before Hermione ruthlessly squashed that warm feeling. 

 

That feeling was dangerous. Malfoy was not to be trusted. He might be just as much a victim to this law as she was, but he was already maneuvering for advantage, trying to figure out how to twist things to suit him. She wasn’t sure just how she fit in that puzzle. She didn’t know him well enough to know if he was a liar. She couldn’t recall him ever telling her or anyone an un-truth, but how would she know if he had? He had seemed sincere when he talked about his motivations, but how would she know? He had said several reasons for choosing her to bid on, but he had only given her two. What other reasons would he have? 

 

“Would you like to floo over to my solicitor’s office with me to get an update?” he asked.  

 

Much her surprise, when she examined her feelings, she did actually want to go. She also wanted to question him about this super secret engagement ritual and ask again what his interest in her was. She decided to be clear-headed about it though. Distance herself. Besides, the boys were waiting for her, wanting to know what she had learned. Clinging to the hope that there was a way out of things. 

 

“I have another appointment,” she told him briskly, repressing the desire to apologize. “I’ll see you at 2 to share information.”

 

The look he gave her as he stared down at her was way too knowing and made her want to fidget uncomfortably. “I’ll escort you.” 

 

“You do what you want,” she said with an attempt at nonchalance and started towards the floo. He used his long stride to beat her there and floo away first. She stood there, waiting for the flames to clear so she could go, and seriously considered flooing anywhere else just to flaunt the fact that he had no control over her, but that was just silly and childish. 

 

The walk back to Hogwarts from the pub was brisk and silent, and Hermione was intensely aware that the distance between them had widened several inches from when they had walked the same path to Hogsmeade. They parted ways at the gate without exchanging a word. Hermione watched Malfoy walk away once again with the ominous feeling that she had somehow offended him. 

* * *

 

A Big Thank you to Kessymaniak for looking over this chapter! And also to Lightofevolution for stepping in with some grammar correction and dialog help. Her help is always amazing!


	6. Desperate Measures

Hermione shoved all of her concerns to the back of her mind the second she opened the library door and saw Ginny’s tearstained face. Harry was unable to give her an update, obviously holding back his own emotions for Ginny’s sake, and gave her nothing but a head shake as she rushed over to find out what was going on. Ron seemed to be quite the spokesperson lately and broke the news to her as Ginny huddled back into Harry’s embrace with a fresh wave of tears. “The sodding ministry has denied their petition for exemption.” 

 

The flare of black fury that went through her was alarming, and she was surprised to find her hand wrapped tight around her wand. Hex first was usually a Harry policy. She was supposed to be the voice of reason. But Harry was busy comforting his distraught fiance, and this could not be allowed to stand. Something needed to be done. Still, cool logic was her weapon, so she scrambled around in her fried brain to find some. “They can’t do that. The law states very clearly that legal bonds made prior to the law will be honored. Harry and Ginny had a legal engagement filed at the ministry months ago!” 

 

“They are claiming that engagement filings don’t count because it’s not a binding agreement, merely a family tradition.” 

 

“That doesn’t even make sense! It’s a ridiculous argument. The engagement is filed at the ministry. It doesn’t matter what the intent was or how easily the agreement is dissolved!” she fumed, already forming a challenge in her mind and itching to get to work. “What exactly did they say?”

 

Ron shoved the letter from the ministry in her direction, and she spent a few minutes reading it three times while Ginny and Harry rocked together and Ron paced. “Okay,” Hermione decided to start at the beginning and clarify. “First things first, we need to get to the root of the problem. Why would they want to deny Harry and Ginny’s engagement? Neither of them are blood purists.” 

 

She wasn’t at all surprised that Ron, their resident strategist, had an answer to her question. He always thought about four chess moves ahead of everyone else. “Probably a preemptive strike against the old blood contracts that are typical with pureblood families. A lot of old families can pull out an old arranged marriage contract, dust it off, and say it’s legal. Even though they are annulled as often as honored. A lot of purebloods probably have an arranged marriage they can fall back on, and the Ministry wants to get in front of that argument as soon as possible.” Ron banged his hand on the table and went on, furious, “Bloody gits figure if they deny Harry Potter’s petition, then no one can claim discrimination when they start denying all the pre-existing contract petitions.” 

 

Hermione nodded absently as she processed information and tried to think of ways around the denial. Ron ranted on, and she listened with half an ear as she mentally went over her research. The petition to honor their previous engagement had been the best plan for Harry and Ginny. But it hadn’t been their only plan. Hermione grabbed a piece of parchment and began to do the math. She had hoped this wouldn’t be necessary, but maybe they could dispute the ministry pureblood calculation. 

 

Harry had scored a 58% pureblood score, which meant somewhere on Lily’s side there must have been a witch or wizard. Ginny’s score was 88% which meant there was obviously some muggle ancestors toying with her formula, too. If they could get Harry’s score closer to the 22% Ginny needed, or reduce Ginny’s score some, they could close the gap needed. Maybe if they could petition the ministry to go back further. Or if they could find an obscure relative and claim that the scores had been miscalculated. “What we need,” she mused out loud, “is the precise mathematical formulas and data the ministry used to calculate the pureblood score.”

 

“What we  _ need _ ,” Ron hesitated, giving her a nervous look before he continued, “is for Harry to get Ginny pregnant.” 

 

“Ronald!” Hermione stood up, anxiety climbing her spine. 

 

“There are laws about pureblood girls, Hermione. If Harry gets her up the duff, he is required to marry her. Those laws are hundreds of years old.” 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. This was hardly the time for Ron to pull out his sometimes antiquated views on women and families. “What about her education? Her future? Let's just start her popping out kids and all her problems are solved?” The more she spoke the more worked up she got, Ron couldn’t actually think this was a good idea. “This is probably the stupidest, most boneheaded, moronic idea you have ever had. I can’t believe you think chaining your sister to a baby is any kind of answer…” 

 

“Chaining her to a baby?” Ron interrupted, full on sarcasm dripping from his tone as if what she was saying was completely irrational. “Like a kid is a prison? Why don’t you just go ahead and tell us how you really feel about kids!” 

 

So typical of him, twisting the subject. They were talking about Harry and Ginny having a baby when they were not even out of school, not whether or not kids were a positive thing in general. “You know I like kids just fine,” she bit out, her temper rising, “but that doesn’t mean I think it’s okay for Ginny to squat in poverty and have a dozen before she finishes school!” 

 

“Poverty?” Ron barked an angry laugh with just a hint of that old resentment. “Harry’s bloody rich!” 

 

“Shhhh!” Ginny had stepped between them, her arms wrapped around herself, her neck craning around to see if they were alone. “Someone will hear you!” 

 

Hermione glanced at Ginny, expecting to see her simmering with fury, and then did a double take. Ginny was biting her lip anxiously, her face still a little raw from crying, but the uncertainty from before had vanished. Ginny looked determined. Harry peeled away from them to check the stacks for listeners, and they waited for him in silence while Hermione forced herself to be quiet instead of screaming that all of them had lost their minds.

 

The second Harry gave the all clear Hermione whipped out her wand and cast her own personal silencing charm around them, a bubble of security that this conversation obviously needed. “Ginny, you can’t seriously be considering this!” she hissed with all the calm reason she could muster, which wasn’t a whole hell of a lot. 

 

Harry took Ginny’s hand, and Hermione found herself staring at their intertwined fingers rather than look at Ginny directly while she spoke. “Harry and I want kids, this is just a little earlier than we planned.” 

 

“Okay, I know, okay.” Hermione took a deep breath and forced herself to speak calmly. She glanced at Ron, noted his stubborn angry, mulish expression and knew she would find no support there. “But pregnancy should be a last-ditch effort. We haven't appealed the ministry, we haven’t tried to fiddle with your scores, we haven’t even challenged the law yet. There is no reason to even be talking about this yet.”

 

They were emotional and upset and Hermione was not about to let her friends make some rash crazy decision they would have to live with forever without thinking it through. But her calm words of reason fell on deaf ears. 

 

“We don’t have time for that. Deliberately breaking the law could land Ginny in Azkaban. When we announce we are pregnant we need the Ministry officials to believe that Ginny was already pregnant when they denied our appeal,”  Harry whispered despite the privacy charm, and Hermione wanted to box his ears. Were they all crazy? They couldn’t have a baby! Ginny was barely seventeen!

 

“Which is why we need to know how accurate pregnancy diagnostic spells are. We need to get pregnant tonight and then claim that she must have been pregnant last week we just didn’t know it yet.” Harry gave Hermione the  _ look _ . The ‘ _ I need _ ’ you look. The ‘ _ I’m about to do something daring and brave and insane and I need your support’ _ look. Hermione didn’t care. The look had no effect on her. She wasn’t going to participate in this. “How long does it take to brew a fertility potion?”

 

“You can’t just get pregnant in one night, Harry! People spend years trying to get pregnant,” Hermione tried to reason with them.

 

“It does happen really quick sometimes though,” Ginny whispered, her eyes darting around for listeners. “When you go off the birth control potion, your system just kicks into high gear. Some girls get pregnant immediately, and some girls have the worst period of their life.”

 

Hermione felt a chill go through her, the sex-ed lecture fresh in her mind. The potion was much more effective than muggle birth control, 100% effective. Unless you missed a dose. Then you became insanely fertile. It was recommended to avoid all intercourse for at least thirty days if you missed a dose. Almost all unplanned wizarding pregnancies were because girls just forgot one potion. “It doesn’t matter how fast you can get pregnant because we are not doing something so irresponsible! Give me a few days, and I will figure out how to get around this stupid law.”

 

But Harry was shaking his head, Ginny was leaning into him. “I can’t risk it, Hermione.”

 

If Harry had shouted, thrown things, broken something, Hermione would have waited for him to calm down and see reason. But she didn’t know how to argue with a Harry who was certain and calm. This was the Harry that freed house elves and broke into wizarding banks and defeated Dark Lords. This was a Harry that could not be persuaded. “I won’t give her up, Hermione. I almost let Voldemort take her from me once. I won’t do that again. We will do whatever it takes.” 

 

“I’m not asking you to give her up, I’m just asking you to give me a few seconds to come up with a better plan than this one.” Hermione found herself wringing her hands and stopped; she hated that stupid habit of hers that manifested when she felt out of control. 

 

“Young pregnancy isn’t all that bad. My mother was only seventeen when she had Bill. Wizards tend to marry pretty young.” Ron was doing his best to be soothing, but his low tone of voice did not match his anxious upset face. Hermione shook her head, unimpressed. 

 

“Girls have more choices now, more to life than being a mom.” 

 

“What’s so wrong with marriage and families and babies?” Ron’s voice went up an octave and Hermione finally twigged onto what had been bothering her about Ron’s plan. He didn’t think up this reckless scheme for Harry and Ginny. He had thought of it for _ her _ . If she got pregnant, she would have no choice but to marry Ron.

 

“There is  _ nothing  _ wrong with having a family,” Hermione said carefully, suddenly feeling the need to tread softly before this blew up into a whole new problem. “If that’s what a girl wants.” 

 

Ron reached into his pocket and pulled out a clear box full of tiny stoppered vials. “Fertility potions,” he confirmed as he opened the box. “Three for Ginny. Three for you. George got them for me.” 

 

Hermione had to force herself not to take a step back and glanced around nervously. “Put those away before somebody sees,” she hissed. “No one is taking a fertility potion.”

 

“I am,” Ginny announced, gathering up her half of the potions. 

 

“Ginny wait, please think about this. You can’t just make a huge life decision in a matter of minutes!”

 

“I  _ have _ thought about it. In fact, we went off birth control three days ago. It’s a long shot, but if we are going to try it, I’m probably most fertile right now. It might not even work, Keep trying to think of something else.” Ginny nonchalantly slipped the potions in a pocket of her robes as if it was no big deal and leaned in to give her a firm hug. Hermione was so upset it took her a few seconds to realize she ought to hug back, and then she found she didn’t want to let go. She wanted to hug some sense into the girl. All too soon, Ginny was pulling back, grabbing Harry’s hand, and pulling him from the room. 

 

They had discussed this, she realized. The three of them,  _ without _ her. She stared at the box of fertility potions, refusing to look at Ron as he closed the box and put them back in his pocket. “Let's go somewhere else and talk about this.” 

 

“I can’t leave. I’m supposed to meet Malfoy,” she replied numbly, her mind racing ahead while she tried to catalogue this new life-altering bomb that was attempting to blow up her life. This was three bombs. First the Law. Then, yesterday, was the Malfoy situation. And today, her boyfriend wanted to get her pregnant. Much more and there wouldn’t be anything left to her life except smithereens. 

 

“Screw sodding Malfoy! Hermione,” Ron grabbed her hand, forcing her attention on his very intense expression, “we need to talk about this.” 

 

She focused in on Ron’s sweet face, all bunched up and red and anxious. She had not really given children much thought, always thinking about having a family in an abstract ‘maybe someday’ kind of way. She wasn’t opposed to having a child, someday. But she certainly didn’t want one nine months from now. She wasn't going to let this stupid law derail her entire life. She was going to get it repealed. She wanted to travel. She wanted a career. She wanted to make a difference in the world. A baby would put a kink in all of those plans. 

 

She pulled her hand out of his, needing to have some distance, already shaking her head before her thoughts were completely formed. “I’m too young for a baby,” she tried. “Maybe someday, but not now.” 

 

“You have to be married in three months time anyway,” he huffed. “Three months. No birth control allowed. What difference does it make if you are pregnant now or if you are pregnant three months from now?”

 

“You can apply for an exemption for birth control if you are in school. I’ve got a whole year at Hogwarts plus I plan to go on for my Masters. I’ll be in school for the next five years, if not longer. That’s a huge time difference. Besides, I’m getting the law repealed.”  She heard the stubbornness in her voice, felt her heels digging in, and took a deep breath. Ron was not the enemy, he was just desperate. She would not allow this law to drive a wedge between them and start a fight. She deliberately reached out and grabbed his hand again, pulling him close, close enough to kiss. “We can’t make rash decisions based on a law that will be abolished as quickly as it was written.” 

 

“Don’t be so stubborn.” He pulled her in for a hug and spoke into her hair. “You know this law might stick for awhile. You, of all people, know how the Ministry is. That’s why you had Harry file for exemption. That’s why you had us go down and try to bid on you. If you can get the damn thing repealed, then great, but what if you can’t?” 

 

She hugged him back for a few minutes, just enjoying the physical reassurance before pulling back, taking both his hands and speaking earnestly and honestly, “That’s true, I did want us to take some precautions. An engagement is a temporary thing, even a marriage can be dissolved. A baby is forever. You can’t really compare signing a contract with making a person.” 

 

Her heartfelt explanation fell on angry, red ears, and Ron squeezed her hands just a little too hard in frustration. “So, an engagement with me is just a piece of paper then...not a permanent thing?”

 

“Ron! That isn’t what I’m saying…”

 

“Just what the hell are you saying, Hermione? That you’d rather marry and fuck sodding  _ Malfoy _ than have a family with _ me _ ?”

 

“Ron, just calm down!” Her voice came out in an angry snap despite her best efforts to be calm and sweet, and she wrenched her hands from his grip before she could stop herself. “No one is marrying sodding Malfoy, I’m getting the damn law repealed. That is the  _ plan _ .” 

 

“Fuck the plan!” He shouted, throwing up his hands, the redness from his ears spreading all over his face. “The plan is shaky at best. We need to think ahead for five seconds.” 

 

“I am thinking ahead,” she shouted back, beyond diplomacy. Ron often brought out the worst in her. Her hands went to her hips and her blood pressure skyrocketed. This was exactly why it was a bad idea to have kids with Ronald. She could just see her child huddled under the covers while they had a huge screaming row. Maybe after they were older, when Ron had matured. But right now, she wouldn’t have a kid with him if he was the last man on earth. “I’m thinking ahead to the fact that I don’t want a baby while I try to finish my education and start my career! Does that even matter to you at all? When you are looking in your crystal ball at our future, are you even thinking about what matters to me?” 

 

His face twisted into an ugly sneer, and Hermione cringed inside, knowing that what came out of his mouth next would be unpleasant. She knew better than to be drawn into a fight with Ron. It was better to wait for him to be calm. “What matters to  _ you _ is to keep your options open.” He pulled a handful of envelopes from one of his pockets. “Well, you are not the only one with options, Hermione. You think Purebloods with no Death Eater ties are common? I’ve got dozens of letters from families begging me to bid on their daughters, even offering to pay me the bride price ten times over if only I will please bid. Maybe I ought to think about  _ my _ options. Think about marrying a girl that actually  _ wants _ to marry me and isn’t horrified at the thought of having a kid with me!” 

 

“Just because I don’t want to have a family at eighteen doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you!” 

 

“Well, I can’t bid on you,” he spat. “So I need a yes or no on the pregnancy plan.” 

 

Her “no” came out a bare whisper but he heard her anyway, crumpling his letters when he made an angry fist and looked away. He noticed something, and she turned her head to see Malfoy leaning on the open door, outside their circle of silence, watching them. 

 

Ron shoved the letters back in his pocket and straightened up. His voice was strangely calm when he spoke. “Okay then, I guess we will talk when you get the law repealed.”

 

Then he was walking away, bumping Malfoy rudely when he shoved past him on his way out of the library. 

* * *

 

A big round of applause for dialog master LightofEvolution who helped with this chapter. Thanks so much for taking time out during your anniversary weekend to help me get this story back on track.

 

* * *

 


	7. Boxed In

Hermione ended her now useless privacy spell and turned away from Malfoy so she could compose herself. Of all the people, in all the world, Malfoy was the absolute worst person she could think of to witness a personal fight between her and her boyfriend. She saw him push off the doorway and make his way towards her out of the corner of her eye, and she quickly made herself busy pulling her files out of her pocket and enlarging them so she could get to work on the appeal. 

 

“Trouble in paradise?” 

 

Hermione took a wet breath, insanely grateful that Ron had made her angry enough to keep her from crying, and ignored Malfoy’s blatant probe for information. She wished she had a few minutes to check her face for blotchiness and down a quick calming draught that she kept in her purse. But he was here already, prowling about her space, demanding her attention. 

 

Why was he here anyway? She didn’t need to be sharing information with Malfoy. She didn’t need to have meetings with him. She didn’t need him and his rotten family for  _ anything _ . Ron and Harry were her allies, not Malfoy. He was the enemy, had been the enemy for as long as she had been at Hogwarts. Now he decided he needed her for something and was all up in her space. In a corner of her mind, calm reason told her she was transferring her fury with Ron to a more worthy target. In a less altruistic corner of her mind, she told calm reason to take a hike. 

 

“You’re early.” 

 

He sat down and swung his feet around to prop them on her table, making her want to push the chair over so he would fall on his ass. Her beloved Hogwarts library was not his local pub and he had no business throwing up his feet like he belonged here. She restrained the impulse and moved her stuff further away from his feet. The bottoms of his shoes were pristine, just like the rest of him. She also scooted her inkwell a little further away to keep herself from giving in to the urge to dump it over his stupid shiny head. 

 

“I wanted to get the meeting done early so we could go down and sign the engagement contract at the ministry before they close.” 

 

“My lawyer has advised me to wait on making a decision until the contract challenge mess has been worked out.” She concentrated on straightening her folders and getting out a crisp clean new sheet of parchment, carefully not looking in his direction. 

 

He tossed a folder on her perfectly straightened pile, causing the whole lot to skew. “My lawyer has advised us to move quickly. Your other suitors don’t feel they are being afforded equal time and access and want to force you to do a minimum interview and date requirement with each of them. According to my source, a petition is being drafted and will be presented to the ministry first thing in the morning. We should sign the contract tonight, put the whole thing to bed.” 

 

Hermione’s head whipped around, needing to see just how serious he was. He shrugged his shoulders, spreading his hands almost apologetically. Not a hint of smirk or smug, just the easy charm she had seen him use on others but never directed at her. She gaped for a second or two, trying to process. “How reliable is this information?” 

 

“Independently verified, multiple sources.” 

 

She opened the folder he had tossed at her just to have something to do with her hands and saw it was a new marriage contract. He stayed silent while she tried to skim quickly, committing to memory, while at the same time letting her brain race ahead to figure out what to do. She felt like a rat in a maze, she just kept turning, just kept testing. No matter how she planned she just kept running into walls, and the only exit was the one they wanted her to take. She needed to quit running, quit trying to beat their system and climb the walls. She looked up at Malfoy. He was staring at her intently, watching her reaction to the contract, a study in seriousness. 

 

Malfoy was used to taking shortcuts, he was used to getting his way. The question in this case: was he a wall, or was he a ladder?

 

“This contract is pretty much the same.”

 

“Yeah, we just added that we will use our traditional engagement ceremony.”  

 

Hermione gave him a look. He couldn’t really expect her to jump up, grab her coat, and run off to the ministry to get engaged to him. Expect her to agree to some super secret engagement ceremony. The silence stretched for a full minute before his feet came down and he leaned forward on his elbows, an earnest honest expression on his face that made her instantly wary and a sigh on his lips.

 

“Listen, the engagement ceremony is mostly a series of extreme protection spells and loyalty vows. I didn’t want to do it because it’s very intimate and meaningful to my family. We’ve never had a broken engagement. It’s usually taken very seriously. I don’t like taking something very sacred to me and making a mockery out of it. However, the spells can be broken, and the engagement is not magically permanent. It will buy us the time we need to dismantle this law and go our separate ways. The Ministry is forcing my hand here.” 

 

Hermione gnawed on her lip and tried to gauge his truthfulness. What she needed was a vial of truth serum, but she doubted he’d agree to take it. He made everything seem so reasonable and straightforward when she knew for a fact this whole thing was a convoluted mess. There were at least a dozen options that didn’t involve her running off to the Ministry with him tonight, based on his word that things were going to get worse tomorrow if she didn’t. 

 

He leaned back, an exasperated sigh and frustration leaking out of his expression. He threw one arm up over the back of another chair and glared at her a bit as if  _ she _ were the reason for this mess. She straightened her spine and glared right back. There was no reason on earth that his scowl should make her aware of his lips and the very real possibility of those lips at some point in the future touching hers. 

 

“Look, Granger, I get that you don’t like me much. Mutual. I get that you don’t want to get engaged. Neither do I. But digging your heels in on this doesn’t do any good. The engagement isn’t important. We intend to break it when we dismantle the law. We need to get this red tape out of the way so we can focus on that.”

 

He ran a hand through perfectly groomed hair, a habit she was now recognizing as a sign of frustration. “There is no pairing in the wizarding world as damaging to this law as ours will be. This is a tool to come at them from a very strong social standpoint. The head of my family is an actual, convicted Death Eater who has personally assaulted you as one of his many crimes. Our personal feud and incompatibility are well documented. Even the most hardened supporter of this law will see you as a victim, and our union as unacceptable.”

 

“I’m not a victim,” Hermione grated out, suddenly furious. Malfoy wanted to use her, the Ministry wanted to use her, her own boyfriend wanted to use her. She was not a tool to be used. “ _ If _ I sign this document, I’m doing it of my own free will. That negates your whole argument.” 

 

He surged to his feet, pacing erratically even though his voice remained calm and even. “I know that. You know that. But you and I are not the people that need to have their minds changed. I already oppose this law, and so do you. You and I are a shining example of everything wrong with this law, a great way to show people exactly why this is wrong. No amount of pretty words about a better society makes victimizing individuals to further their agenda okay. Don’t you see? My lawyers are going to have a field day with this. They plan to challenge thirteen points of the law that are insupportable, and all of those points come right back to us as an example of why this law is inhumane and unjustified.” 

 

He came to a stop in front of her, and she felt like she was five years old being lectured by the principal. She stood to correct the balance between them and hurled his file with his marriage contract at his stupid, too-handsome face. It did nothing for her temper when the folder went sideways and down and didn’t come even close to hitting him. “I don’t know why you think you using me is any better than the stupid ministry using me. I don’t want to marry you, and I shouldn’t be forced to. You bringing pressure on me from one side and Ron from the other is just giving into their stupid law.  I won’t do it. I am not going to just go get engaged quietly, and then let you use me in some stupid political campaign to get your way.” 

 

She took a couple steps back, crossing her arms and creating a physical barrier between them. She didn’t like how tall he had gotten. Craning her head back to maintain eye contact was annoying.  Her blood pressure had skyrocketed and her pulse was throbbing so loud and quick that she could hear it pounding through her head. “I don’t know what game you are playing here, but you can just forget about it. I won’t be your pawn!” 

 

“Damn it, you stubborn impossible woman!” Malfoy snapped, moving towards her two precise steps to maintain that looming effect he seemed to enjoy, suddenly just as angry and loud, and it was gratifying to see him finally lose his cool. People were not supposed to be all calm and collected all the time. “I’m probably the  _ only one _ in this whole situation who is  _ not  _ trying to use you. I’m here, being totally open and honest asking for your help and cooperation. That’s the exact opposite of using you. I don’t want to use you. I want to work with you do get something we both want!” 

 

“I don’t want to get engaged!” she screeched at him, lunging closer despite herself, totally losing the plot. She hated him even more for making her screech in her beloved library, but she couldn’t help it. This wasn’t rocket science. She didn’t want to even pretend for one, hot second that she was going to comply with the ministry. She didn’t want to let them maneuver her anywhere closer to their goal of marrying her off. An engagement was a step in the wrong direction. Didn’t he see that?

 

“Well, what the hell do you want me to do about that?” he exploded, taking two more steps, placing himself quite firmly in her personal space, glaring down at her hotly. “Do you have some way of avoiding the engagement requirement? Do you have some way of getting out of it? Are you planning on giving up your magic? Instead of screaming at me like a five-year-old that you don’t want to do it, why don’t you give me a damn solution, because I don’t want to get engaged either! But, right now, I have to, and since I have to, I want to get it over with so I can focus on the much bigger problem which is that I don’t want to marry you!” 

 

She took a deep breath to calm herself and decided he was way too close for comfort. She turned and walked away from him before she did something she would regret like punching his lights out. “Why don’t you just find someone else to bid on?” she snarled over her shoulder, crossing her arms and staring into the library stacks. “There are plenty of much more cooperative, easily-led girls who would be happy to be engaged to a Malfoy.”

 

She felt more than saw him getting closer to her, and she wanted to turn and see just how close he was but also didn’t want to look at him. Not knowing if he was a step closer or right up close and personal, set off all of her awareness, and she strained to hear him breathe. For some reason being in his presence seemed to make her hyper-aware of the space between them. When he finally spoke, low and quiet, she found herself concentrating more on measuring his distance than on how angry she was. 

 

“Do you think that’s fair? To let some girl think I want to marry her? What we have here is more honest; at least we know where we stand with each other. No romantic issues fogging up the moral landmines. I’ve told you why I want to be engaged to you. I think you are my best shot at not getting married.” 

 

She dug the heels of her hands into her eye sockets and tried to calm down. The Law, the Ministry, her suitors, Ron, pregnancy, Harry and Ginny. Her whole future was bearing down on her. On every side, she had people and pressures, and everyone wanted her to decide now now  _ now  _ about her entire future. She just needed to think it through. She just needed some time.

 

_ Time _ . That was what Malfoy was offering her. 

 

She turned then, looking up at him, trying to read those changing eyes. He had been closer than she had guessed, and she found herself physically startled that he was not only within touching distance, but that her shoulder almost brushed up against him when she turned. She took a deep breath of her own, aware of his scent and his breath, and let go of her own temper. This was not Malfoy’s fault and she didn't have a better plan. Hell, she had no plan. Malfoy was definitely beating her in the planning department. At least he had somewhere for them to start. 

 

“Did you really hear that my suitors are planning a coup to make me date them?” She asked quietly, suddenly aware of how far sound traveled and that this should be a private conversation. The whole thing sounded so far-fetched, but so did this whole extreme situation. 

 

“That is ruddy fact. Like it or not, we Malfoys own half the corrupt lawyers your suitors are using.” He whispered back, his tone low and intimate and secretive.  “We have dirt on just about everyone who matters. I’ve gotten a heads up about it from multiple people wanting to curry favor with me. My father is in prison, and people want to make nice with me now that I’m de facto in charge of the Malfoy fortune and influence. I don’t know for sure what the final petition is, but I’m sure you won’t like it. I’m willing to bet an engagement on it I’m so sure.” 

 

“Make an oath to me, right now, that you will break this engagement agreement with me when we get the law repealed,” she moved even closer to him, staring intently at his face, trying to read his expression, feeling like her whole life hinged on his answer. The silence of the library felt heavy and overwhelming and her whole body trembled with the tension. 

 

If he had hesitated for even one second, she would have walked away, consequences be damned. But his answer was swift and low and serious, and, despite everything, she believed him. “I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, do solemnly swear I will not, in any way, impede Hermione Granger from legally breaking an engagement agreement with me under any circumstances.” 

 

This hushed moment between them felt sacred and powerful. She was not immune to the fact they were discussing an engagement and that Malfoy had just given her a solemn vow. Her nod felt like a promise in return, and she was almost lightheaded from the power of it. 

 

“You’ll need a witness,” he said, stepping away from her, breaking the spell of intensity between them, once more dawning that cloak of ruthless practicality that she could almost admire. He stooped to pick up the folder she had flung, stuffing the now wrinkled contract inside. She was disturbed to find herself admiring his long lean lines and well-shaped behind. He turned to look at her, and she fought a blush, no idea where such a sideways thought had come from.

 

She wasn’t the sort of girl who admired the physical, no matter how nice. And why she would be admiring the physical niceness of Malfoy when she knew the person inside that lovely package was very far from nice? That was a question to be turned over in her mind another time, far away from Malfoy and his stupid perceptiveness. 

 

What had he said? Oh yes, witnesses. Ron was out of the question. She had reason to believe that Harry was busy. “I can go ask McGonagall.” 

  
  


Spending her evening voluntarily walking into the Ministry to sign a contract with Draco flipping Malfoy seemed surreal. It was cold, a simple filing of paperwork with a signed witness. She had spent more effort getting her Muggle driving license. And yet, putting ink to paper had her hand shaking so badly she could hardly read her own signature.

 

There was no turning back now. She had agreed to this course of action. No matter what the fallout, she was committed to Malfoy’s wild plan now. If the whole thing affected him at all, it didn’t show. He didn’t say a word throughout the entire process and only acknowledged her with a shallow nod when they arrived back on Hogwarts grounds before he walked away with his usual swiftness. 

 

McGonagall took her arm as they made their way back into the school and quietly said, “I hope you know what you are doing.” 

 

“So do I.” Hermione couldn’t keep the bleakness from her tone and didn’t try. “So do I.”

 

* * *

 

Endless thanks to LightofEvolution for all her feedback on this chapter. Her help is invaluable, the feedback is so appreciated, I can’t even tell you! Also hugs to Barton81 who not only cleaned up my run-on sentences here but has gone back to some of the earlier chapters to do some grammar editing! 


	8. Counterbalance

Hermione stayed up most of the night fretting about her upcoming engagement ceremony and what it would entail. They only had three days to fulfill the traditional engagement ceremony clause of their agreement, and the thought of entering into a magical binding ceremony with Malfoy of all people had her breaking out in hives. What had she been thinking? She wasn’t the type to make irrevocable fly-by-night decisions. She was the level-headed one. What had seemed like such a great logical decision in the library with Malfoy standing a foot from her, breathing her air and making her promises, seemed like a monumentally stupid decision once it was done and she was back in her room.

 

Most of her night consisted of pacing and wringing of hands. It was punctuated by multiple bouts of almost opening her door only to decide that she didn’t need to wake her friends with this and returning to bed. 

 

She should have woken her friends. 

 

This was immediately obvious the second she stepped into the common room and was met by incredulous stares. Granted, she was running a little on the late side, sleeping in a bit after she had finally managed to doze off in the wee hours, but certainly not so late as to cause shocked silence from her peers. She looked around, alarmed, and noticed that several students were clustered around a copy of the Prophet and that her face was on the cover. 

 

Just then, before she could get her bearings, Ron came storming up to her with the paper clenched in both fists in an almost menacing way. “Please tell me the Prophet has made a mistake and you have  _ not  _ accepted Malfoy’s proposal.” 

 

Hermione would have given up her magic three times over to prevent the look of shattered betrayal on his face as she shook her head no. She rushed to explain that it wasn’t a real engagement. It was temporary. There was a coup. Words fell out of her mouth with no filter and no finesse, but he was backing away from her, shaking his head, and the thought of him being hurt by this had her screaming inside. “Ron, please listen, you know this isn’t me. It’s this stupid law!”

 

“You signed the papers with him, Hermione! We didn’t even talk about it.” His voice broke a bit. 

 

Hermione wiped at meddlesome tears that were getting in the way as she tried to explain. “I didn’t have a choice, Ron. They left me with no choice. But I’m not going to marry him. I’m going to get this law repealed, and then we can be together. Don’t you see that this is the only way we can be together?”

 

“I gave you a choice! You didn’t want to choose me. I can’t believe this. I actually don’t believe this. How  _ could _ you!” He threw down the paper and stormed away, leaving her in tears and alone in a room full of people. 

 

She stood there, speechless for a handful of seconds, before Lavender Brown of all people shot to her feet and came to her rescue. “All of you, get to breakfast,” she said, making shooing motions at the crowd as Ginny led her to a chair by the fire. Hermione flopped down, still shocked. 

 

“How is this my fault all of a sudden?” she asked. “The other day he was all kinds of grateful that Malfoy was doing me a favor, and now I’m evil and wrong for being a victim to this stupid Ministry law?” 

 

“Hermione, you do realize there is a difference between Malfoy offering to help you and you actually accepting his help, don’t you?” Ginny asked, an eyebrow raised as if she couldn’t believe Hermione could be this stupid.

 

“I’m not a moron!” Hermione snapped, angrily drying her tears. She hated that sweet condescending tone of voice. Just because she hadn’t dated half the Quidditch team didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of understanding interpersonal relationships. “I don’t need you to explain the situation to me. I’m in it all the way up to my ears! Shouldn’t you be explaining to Ron that this stupid law is not my fault, and that the only people we should be mad at are the idiots who signed this into law?”

 

Lavender and Ginny exchanged a look. One of those looks that let her know that they understood something glaringly obvious and she was being socially obtuse. 

 

“I’m sure he isn’t blaming you for the law, Hermione, but you did make a decision here that is pretty serious and affects both of you.” Lavender had no business being the person who sounded reasonable in all of this. 

 

Ginny conjured a glass filled it with water, pressing it into her hands, and Hermione took a grateful drink while she actively tried to calm down. This was a nightmare. For several days now, it had been one high adrenaline problem after another. She’d probably alternated between crying and anger and stressed fretting more this week than she had in her entire life. She just wanted to go back to freaking out about ruddy Voldemort and final exams. 

 

“That’s right,” Ginny agreed with Lavender, nodding and touching her knee. “Ron knows this isn’t completely your fault. But you can’t expect a heartbroken boy to just jump straight to calm reason, Hermione. He’s allowed to be upset. He had planned to spend his whole life with you.”

 

“I know that it was a pretty big decision, but it was the  _ right  _ decision.” Hermione nodded, reassuring herself. “This buys me time to get the law repealed. I know how hotheaded Ron can be, and this is upsetting for him, but sometimes I just need him to grow up and be there for me, you know? Just once I’d like him to be a great boyfriend and put my emotional needs first. After last night, I ought to be the one is mad. He ought to be relieved that I found a better plan than the one he tried to rush us into to. I have time now to figure this out. Then we can go back to the way things were.”

 

The girls exchanged looks again, and Lavender put a supporting arm around her that made Hermione very nervous. “Honey,” she said, very soothingly, “you do realize that you and Ron just broke up, right?” 

 

Hermione stared flatly at her friend, almost wanting to laugh. That was what she got for thinking that Lavender was being reasonable. No wonder the catty girl was being so sweet to her. She thought a little paperwork at the Ministry had broken her up with Ron. 

 

Hermione shook her head, laughing a little, and took another drink of water. “I hardly think Ron is going to break up with me over this, Lavender. We love each other. This is just a stupid piece of paper, and Ron will calm down about it. He always does.” 

 

“No,” Ginny was shaking her head, high spots of color in her pretty pale cheeks. “No, you don’t get to be engaged to someone else and think you still get to date my brother.” 

 

Hermione set the glass down, slightly alarmed by Ginny’s very serious tone. “Ginny, this isn’t a  _ real  _ engagement. It’s just a legal ploy to put off the Ministry until I can get this law sorted. It’s not like Malfoy and I are together or anything.” 

 

She felt like she was explaining water was wet, and it was doing absolutely no good based on the looks she was getting back from the girls. 

 

“Hermione, you signed papers!” Ginny no longer sounded calm and reasonable, in fact, she was rising to her feet, flushed and angry. “You can’t possibly be this naive about the way the Wizarding World works after all this time. You’ve been here for seven years. The Ministry does what it wants. This isn’t your spineless Muggle government. The Wizenmengot has the last say. This law isn’t getting repealed, and you won’t be getting out of this engagement!” 

 

“Ginny, calm down. I have no intention of marrying Malfoy. I’m not two-timing your brother. I just signed a ruddy paper to buy a little time to repeal this law.” Hermione stood to comfort her friend, but Ginny was having none of it, backing away from her comforting touch. “Really, Ginny, just think about this reasonably.”

 

“Life isn’t all about reason, Hermione! You broke my brother’s heart by doing this. Now, I can understand why you did, and no one can say the Ministry didn’t back you into a corner, but come on. Quit being so damn logical and realize that there are emotional consequences here!” Ginny spun on her heel and stomped away, and Hermione closed her mouth with a snap. No sense in fighting with the girl. She would calm down and realize this wasn’t as big of a deal as she had thought it was. They could all sit down together and talk about it. Lord knows it always took a while for the Weasleys to see reason.

 

Suddenly, Lavender was hugging her. She was enveloped in a cloud of expensive perfume, silky soft hair, and butter soft clothes for a moment before she was let go. “For such a smart girl, you sure can be dumb sometimes. I’m going to go check on her.” 

 

Hermione watched Lavender rush off, slightly bemused by the girl’s sweet concern, and decided to skip breakfast. The table would be all abuzz about her engagement, and she had other things to concentrate on. Like making sure an engagement didn’t turn into a marriage. 

  
  
  


It didn’t take Hermione long to realize that she had severely underestimated just how upset Ron would be by this whole “engagement” thing. It was okay for him to walk out on her in the library and tell her he’d deal with her when she got the law repealed, but then he wanted to turn around and be all wounded and hurt about the way she decided to fight the law. Even the first classes of the year brought little distraction despite the fact that usually it was her absolute favorite part of the year. Ginny’s “I told you so” when Ron avoided her all morning and then stormed out the minute she entered the grand hall for lunchtime certainly didn’t help matters. 

 

She sat silently through lunch, ignored by her peers, and stewed about the whole mess. Harry was sticking to Ron’s side, thank goodness, since he was so upset. She was glad Ron had the support he needed, but that left her pretty much alone with her dark and disturbing thoughts. She couldn’t wait to sit down with Malfoy’s lawyers to interrogate them about their 13 point plan and bring her own ideas and research to the table. The earliest she could get a meeting though was a full week out. There was no way she couldn’t wait that long to do something. She gave up on lunch and stomped out of the hall, a girl on a mission.

 

She was in full temper by the time she reached the owlery and penned a quick note to Almond Dippant requesting a meeting. This wasn’t Ron’s fault; she had to remember that. Of course he was hurt and upset. This was a whole upsetting mess. She needed to keep the blame firmly where it belonged. She sent another quick note to McGonagall letting her know she was leaving school grounds to visit with her attorney. Deciding it was better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission she quickly made her way out of the school and started walking briskly towards Hogsmeade. 

 

The walk cleared her head somewhat. She felt reasonably calm by the time an owl swooped down to deliver a reply from Dippant telling her to come at her leisure. Her leisure was in about five minutes; she hoped he was ready for her. She didn’t know for sure what his specialty was but his competence at their first meeting had impressed her and that wasn’t easy to do. Still, it was an unanticipated visit.

 

Nevertheless, one quick floo later found her in his lovely lobby. His assistant directed her to a seat and offered her tea, but no sooner had her rear touched cushion than Mr. Dippant was greeting her. She was relieved to find that most of her fearful feelings had evaporated. She felt much more confident and on more solid ground when she sat across the desk from her attorney this time around. A plan and a direction really went a long way towards grounding her. Being at loose ends was never her strong suit.

 

“Miss Granger, I hadn’t really expected to see you again in light of your engagement.” He pulled a file, presumably hers, from a pile on his desk, putting his reading glasses smartly on his nose. “Since the contract you signed is not technically finalized until the magical procedure binds you to it we can still bill this consultation to the Malfoys, no worries there.” 

 

“Well, my financial concerns are a bit of a moot point now that I’ll be receiving that hefty bride price,” she acknowledged with a smile. “I would like to go over the legal ramifications of my contract in detail, but I’d also like to engage you for an additional project if you are so inclined.” 

 

The look he gave her was downright intrigued and Hermione couldn’t help but be pleased with herself. She liked Mr. Dippant and thought he was just the right man for the job. 

 

“Certainly, Miss Granger,” He leaned back away from the desk, open and engaged, hands folded comfortably over his middle. “What can I help you with?”

 

“I’d like to sue Kingsley Shacklebolt, as well as every person who signed their name on this law. I’d like to hold these individuals responsible for my personal pain and suffering, the loss of my future children with Ronald Weasley, as well as damage to my reputation and other interpersonal relationships. I’d also like to explore the possibility of pressing criminal charges for endangering my life and the lives of my future children by coercing my social and legal engagement with dangerous factions.” 

 

She knew she was smirking in a very Malfoyesque way but couldn’t help it. Still, it didn’t feel out of place since the smile she received back in return put her in mind of a cat that just eaten a canary. 

  
  


Hermione was practically brimming with satisfaction by the time she made her way to her private room, not even annoyed with all the extra stairs. Finally, finally, she was doing something. She felt like she was a totally different person. Empowered and capable instead of afraid and weepy. It felt good. No amount of cautionary stipulations regarding how difficult it is to sue government officials, tort laws, and lack of precedent could dampen her enthusiasm.  

 

Still, looking up to see Ron sitting on her bed with his head in his hands was like a kick to the gut. 

 

She set down the folders of notes she was carrying and immediately made her way to his side, sitting down and wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back and she just let his warmth wash over her, soothing her jagged edges and hurts for a few minutes. He pulled away first, swiping at his eyes suspiciously, but he wasn’t crying, and he wasn’t yelling. He handed her a stack of crumpled envelopes. 

 

“I thought you could help me pick out someone to bid on, get the requirement out of the way.” 

 

Hermione restrained herself from lunging at him to hug some more and started opening the letters, scanning them. 

 

They looked over his prospects for a while before he broke the silence. “When do you do the engagement ceremony?”

 

“I haven't gotten together with Malfoy to discuss it yet,” she admitted, annoyed that she didn’t know. “I'm not even sure what’s involved or where it is. I’ll need to corner his ferret ass tomorrow to hammer out some details.”

 

He barked a startled laugh and she was relieved to hear it. She hadn’t heard a happy sound from him in days. 

 

“I’ll go with you,” he volunteered. “To the ceremony. Usually, girls bring their father or a brother, but you don’t have anyone magical on your side. I’m sure Harry will go too, give you a proper escort.” 

 

“You have no idea how great that would be,” she grabbed his hand giving it a quick squeeze. “The thought of being alone with those people makes my skin crawl.”

 

She thought about it for a nanosecond before grabbing her wand and silencing the room. “Listen, you can’t tell anyone,” she started and waited for his impatient nod before continuing. “I’ve just been to see my lawyer about suing and pressing charges against Kingsley and the rest of those stupid lawmakers who are putting us through this. I’m not going to just let them get away with this.” 

 

Ron’s whoop of surprised joy was the best sound that she had heard all week. 

 

* * *

 

 

Thank you to LightofEvolution who did the initial read through on this chapter and Barton81 for helping clean up the grammar a bit. I did do quite a bit of heavy editing after the fact on this chapter so please be aware all mistakes you see are on me. 

 

 


	9. Fight or Flight

An unpleasant incessant tapping woke Hermione, and she pried her eyelids open. She had stayed up too late, laughing with Ron and picking through his letters. The whole situation seemed a lot more fun and carefree with her lawsuit looming. They were able to joke about how ridiculous the ministry was and giggle over some of the downright insane letters of proposal Ron had received. Yes, she was engaged. Yes, Ron was planning on getting engaged. It all seemed very dire. But it helped to laugh about it. So she was in a better mood than she had been in days when she crawled out of bed to shove her window open and let a lovely set of tawny owls into the room. 

 

One carried a tiny square package, the other a letter. She stumbled through her cluttered space to fish some owl treats out of an overfull desk drawer, sending the owls on their way and closing the window before she set about finding a letter opener. The envelope was heavy, thick and perfumed of all things, her name penned on the front in a precise unfamiliar script. Finally, out of frustration, she stuck a finger in and ripped the envelope open, careful not to rip the letter neatly folded inside. Beautiful thick cream parchment, penned by hand in the same precise letters as the envelope. 

 

Miss Granger,   
  


I hope this post finds you in good health and high spirits. 

 

As my son insists that I don’t impose on you, I have been forced to pen a letter. Please excuse the lack of proprietary and note that this is absolutely not how I would prefer to address my possible future daughter-in-law, but my son is adamant that this is what you would prefer. Regretfully, we have not really indulged in any sort of quality personal interaction so I am doing my best to be prudent and assume that Draco probably knows you better than I. However, despite all of this, I felt I absolutely must reach out regarding the upcoming binding ceremony.  

 

The Ministry has insisted that we adhere to all aspects of our traditional engagement rituals. Unfortunately, this includes the location. All magical Malfoy ceremonies are held in our personal sanctuary. In deference to any personal aversion you might have to the Manor, I have cut all unnecessary formalities that would require extended time on the premises. It would be my pleasure to discuss, at your leisure, a more long-term strategy to alleviate any tension you might have in our ancestral home.

 

I have arranged all the details and currently have the event scheduled for four o’clock tomorrow. This is designed to be a small intimate ceremony, leaving guests and witnesses for the more open marriage ceremony. That being said, you should select at least two magical stewards. These individuals will need to safeguard your person and your wand until you are officially given into Draco’s keeping. The magical prestige of these individuals reflects on your status, so choose wisely. 

 

I acknowledge entering into this bond with our family requires an act of faith on your part. In recognition of that fact, I’d like to offer a good faith token in response. I have included in separate package an engagement ring. It would be our great honor if you would allow Draco to use this family heirloom in lieu of a standard ring in the binding ceremony. It has been passed down for generations and it would be a personal favor to me if you consent to wear it.  It is heavily infused with magical protection spells, and so I extend an invitation to have the ring examined, with care please, by an artifact expert of your choosing in order to establish confidence in our intentions. 

 

You should also be aware that the extreme protection, fidelity, and loyalty vows used in this ceremony are very potent. The rituals are performed, for your safety, in a completely natural state without any artificial or magical adornment. In deference to the Ministry’s tradition requirement, I have prepared all the items you would need to purify yourself accordingly and the traditional natural fiber attire. Brides have always come to us barefoot with unbound hair so there is no need to secure a stylist. I would recommend arriving by three o’clock to give yourself adequate time to bathe and change. 

 

If there is anything further we can do in order to facilitate your comfort and security, do not hesitate to let me know so that I can make arrangements immediately. A portkey has been provided for you and your guests.

 

Yours truly,

Narcissa Malfoy

 

Hermione turned the envelope over, and a flat silver disk engraved with the words ‘Malfoy Portkey’ slid into her palm. She set it aside and turned to the box, being more careful than she had with the envelope. She felt a kick of misplaced guilt about her nervousness. On the surface, one might conclude that the Malfoys were just trying to make the best of a bad situation and that Narcissa was genuine in her offer of goodwill. Experience, however, made her think the letter was just a little too nice and that the Malfoys had a history with jewelry. She set the box squarely on her little desk and used her wand to direct an opening spell at the box. The box resisted magical manipulation, lending weight to her theory that she was right to be wary of any overture from the Malfoy clan. 

 

Deciding to error on the side of caution, she left the box lay unopened and went about getting dressed for the day. She’d have a better plan of action after she spoke to Harry and Ron. 

  
  


In light of all that was happening, the friends decided not to go to breakfast. Instead, they imposed on the House Elves to bring them some scones to munch on while they discussed their plan of action going forward. Breakfast was pretty sacred in Gryffindor House, so the common room was completely deserted. Hermione still cast her privacy spell as an extra layer of protection, just to be on the safe side. It felt a little weird to have Ginny sitting in on a strategy meeting, but this affected her as well, and the way she and Harry were sitting so close broadcasted loud and clear that they were now operating as a team. 

 

Much to her displeasure, the first item that needed to be discussed was Harry and Ron’s insane pregnancy plan. She pulled out a folder with her lists from her bag and swallowed down her distaste. This might be the stupidest plan in the history of plans, but Harry was her friend, and she would never deny him her help. Even if this latest crazy scheme of his had her reminiscing fondly about bank break-ins and Thestral outings. “So, I’ve done some research on advanced pregnancy detection spells. Provided the information available to the public is the most updated information, a magical pregnancy can be reliably detected within 48 hours of conception. Note the time it takes to conceive can vary quite a bit so I think that this is the best way to fiddle with the timeline. Sperm can take anywhere from 30 minutes to three days to reach the egg. It can hang around in fallopian tubes and the uterus waiting for an egg for a while too. Some say it can take up to five days.” 

 

She stared down at her research bemused. “For our purposes, I’d go with three days. Since we are practicing deception I wouldn’t want to push up against any outliers. Interestingly enough, estimating time of conception is more accurate at the beginning of pregnancy. At eight weeks, the date of conception can be pinpointed between three and five days. Accuracy starts to drop off after twelve weeks due to the variance in fetal growth.  It might be better for us to wait a while. Go ahead and do your appeal...dig in your heels and fight this law openly, and then let Ginny’s pregnancy be “discovered” by a medi-witch at a well-visit.” She looked up at Harry and Ginny, conveying her seriousness with her tone. “With that timeline in mind, I’d say, try again tonight, and then give it a rest. We should know something by next week.” 

 

She sat her pregnancy research aside and pulled out her new appeal, passing out copies with a no-nonsense attitude that had served her well in the past when dealing with uncomfortable emotions. “Pregnant or not, we want a solid appeal. A foundation for other couples and a back-up plan for you. It could be a disaster to put together something sloppy and have the Ministry paper pushers suspect deception. I made use of my lawyer yesterday to put this draft together, and I’m pretty pleased with it. I’d like to move quickly and be the first to file, if you have no objections.” 

 

“Hermione, this reads like a foreign language. You want to clue us in?”  At least Ron was paying attention; Harry was staring blankly at the appeal, his mind clearly elsewhere. He leaned in to whisper with Ginny, rudely ignoring what she was saying. Hermione held back a sigh of frustration and pressed on. She had classes at nine o’clock and needed to keep things progressing.  

 

“I’m challenging the methodology for determining the pureblood score. I’m demanding that our own experts be consulted and allowed to attempt to replicate the results. And I’m leaving open the possibility of challenging the method itself. My lawyer, Mr. Dippant, is not confident that we can actually win the appeal...but he does acknowledge it’s an excellent stall tactic while I work on challenging the law directly. I can probably drag this appeal out for months.” 

 

“Whatever you think is best,” Harry mumbled briefly in her direction, clearly only listening with half an ear. His conversation with Ginny seemingly far more important. The girl was a distraction. Hermione knew that possibly having a baby was a big deal, but so was this appeal. She needed Harry focused. 

  
  


“So, I might already be pregnant?” Ginny spoke up, hesitantly. Clearly their conversation had not moved on from the last agenda item. Hermione held back her eye roll and the desire to tell her that, yes, sometimes unprotected sex resulted in a baby. She knew that wasn’t what Ginny meant, and there was no need to bring her snarky attitude about it to the table.

 

“Well, you might have a fertilized egg, which if magical, will already have a unique magical signature. It takes 3-6 days for the egg to move down the fallopian tubes and implant in the uterus, which is when you will technically be considered pregnant,” 

 

Ginny interrupted impatiently, “I don’t care what we call it!” 

 

Hermione tried to make her voice gentler and kinder, despite her irritation. “What I’m trying to say is that there is a reason why people don’t check for pregnancy this early. Even if we do detect a magical signature, that doesn’t mean that the egg will divide properly, or attach to the uterine wall properly. Scientists estimate that 50% of fertilized eggs are lost before you miss a period. I don’t want to get your hopes up when the odds are so high that even a positive result will not mean a pregnancy. Maybe we should wait to check until there is a higher probability for a successful pregnancy.” 

 

“No, I don’t want to wait!” Ginny’s voice was a little too high pitched, a little wobbly. “It’s a little scary, but I’d rather know than not know. I just, I mean, can we check? Do you know how to do that?” 

 

“Yes, of course.” A heavy feeling of dread settled in her stomach as she got to her feet. “I am going to check for a magical signature. This type of spell only detects a magical pregnancy. A non-magical baby won’t have a magical signature.” 

 

Harry and Ginny both climbed to their feet, Harry putting a supporting arm around Ginny so she could lean up against him. Hermione felt like a little bit of a scrooge as she made him back up. She needed a clear space around the subject. At least she was getting to practice her cheerful detached bedside manner. She wasn’t at all sure what field she wanted to go into, but Mediwizardry was at least in the top ten. 

 

She took a deep breath and cast. A wave of her wand and heat was spreading through her, connecting her briefly with Ginny’s magical aura. She found it very interesting that she  _ knew _ Ginny’s magic. Sure and steady, a pulsing orange warmth that was familiar and friendly and said hello with a gentle wave before the spell ended. The second signature was nothing more than a hazy bronze shadow, that brightened just a little when her magic touched it...a flare of vitality and awareness that staggered Hermione just a bit. Ginny’s baby had just said hello to her, and any foul feeling she had about this pregnancy suddenly seemed dirty and evil and shameful. 

 

“Well, that was fast.”

 

“And that means?” Ron almost shouted at her and she took a deep breath for fortitude. Ginny was almost white with anxiety and poor Harry had his arms wrapped around himself, statue still, waiting. 

 

“I detected two magical signatures: Ginny’s and one other. We have the earliest magical markers of fertilization. Congratulations.” She tried to fake some enthusiasm...after all, what was done was done, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the couple hugging and crying and carrying on. This was a wonderful new adventure, but it also meant this was the only adventure they were going to have. Ginny looked painfully young. She shared a look with Ron and was surprised to notice that he actually looked a little green. It was one thing to think about making a baby, it was another to be actually faced with being an uncle. 

 

“I think we should tell people right away. Now, today.” Harry said, turning to face her, slipping an arm around Ginny. “We can’t be the only ones that thought of this idea, and if we wait, then there will be a flood of pregnancies and the Ministry will have figured out a way to block it. I want to submit a proposal stating that we are pregnant and must adhere to the pureblood marriage laws in place for pregnant girls. I already talked to a lawyer and he has a legal brief drawn up already.” 

 

Hermione felt what little control she had over the situation scatter like dry sand. This was happening too fast; they couldn’t afford to make a mistake. “Wouldn’t it be better to let someone else be the first to declare a pregnancy so we can see how the Ministry is going to react? They must have planned for this. If someone else goes first, we can better prepare our defence.”

 

“And give them time to work out the kinks? Give them time to change the laws about termination? I don’t think so. Terminating a magical pregnancy is a crime. A girl’s family has the right to demand matrimony. How many single mothers do you see running about, Hermione? It just isn’t done. I’ve done my research. Right now, I have the law on our side. Tomorrow, that might not be the case.” 

 

Hermione saw red. “Damn it, Harry! I put a ton of work into this brief, stressed over it. And all the time you had no intention of taking my advice at all. What the hell!” 

 

“It’s not like you can’t use the brief for your case Hermione, or someone else’s.” Ginny broke in, a superior cat got the cream tone to her voice that sounded downright smug. “This is our future, our decision. We don’t have to do everything you say; we don’t need your permission. Just like  _ you _ didn’t need our permission to run off and get engaged to Malfoy without a word to anyone.” Ginny pushed away from Harry and sat down. “I’m sorry you don’t like the choices we have made, but everything doesn’t have to be about you. Ron, have you decided who to bid on?” 

 

And just like that, the three of them dismissed all her concerns and all her hard work. She felt that old resentment boiling up inside. Copying off her homework. Ditching her for girls, goofing off, and Quidditch. She took a deep breath and stuffed it all down deep. These were her friends and they meant well. They didn’t mean to hurt her, she knew that. They were just very different than her, and she needed to remember to embrace those differences. If Ginny could be a little bitchy and catty...well, she also was confident and fun. If Harry could be pig-headed and short-sighted, he was also loyal and brave. Ron might sometimes be insensitive and selfish, but he was also kind and gentle. She sat down with her friends, trying to see the world from their point of view. She’d been working on that lately. Her tendency to see only her way as the right way was a flaw of hers, and she felt everyone needed to always be improving.

 

Ron glanced at her, noted her twisting hands, and gave her a sweet smile as a sign of solidarity. She pulled that kindness to her breast and let it warm her as she tuned into the conversation. 

 

“Hermione and I narrowed the list down to five. I’ve just got to pick one and go down to place a bid. All of these choices have agreed to reimburse me for the cost of the bride price, and none of them are from Hogwarts...kinda don’t want the complication of bidding on someone I know.” 

 

“What if Hermione doesn’t get the law repealed? Then you are marrying a total stranger.” Ginny, gave Hermione a look under her lashes. “I want her to win too, but we need to plan for the worst and hope for the best.”

 

“If it’s not Hermione, than it doesn’t matter who it is.” Ron took her hand and tears sprang to her eyes. She wiped hastily at them, but everyone saw. In a blink, she had Ginny on her other side with an arm around her shoulders. Before she could stop them, her tears were coming in a flood. She hated this stupid law, what it was doing to her friends, what it was doing to Ron. And she hated hated  _ hated _ crying. 

 

She forced herself to suck it up, take a wet breath, and soldier on. “Ginny does have a point, Ron. We should decide based on who would be the best choice if I’m unable to get the law repealed in time.”

 

But she knew that mulish expression. He wasn’t going to budge on this. “I want to marry you, and if I can’t marry you, then it doesn’t matter who I do marry. I’ll never love anyone else.” 

 

He grabbed one of the letters at random, tossing it on the table. “ _ Her _ \- I’ll bid on whoever that is. Now my bidding is decided, and Harry has decided what to do, that just leaves you. What’s in the box?”

 

Hermione ignored him and picked up the letter. Alice Shire. Her father had written the letter asking Ron to bid on Alice. He felt that Ron would make the best choice based on his close-knit family and part in the war. The man had enclosed a photograph of Alice, who had graduated  _ Beauxbatons  _ the year prior, and Hermione wanted to cry all over again. It was a graduation photo and the girl was brimming with happiness, smiling and waving. Pretty, blonde, young. “I think we should write Alice and see what she thinks before we do anything else.” 

 

Ron opened his mouth to object, stubborn set to his shoulders, but then he took a breath and the letter back from her and stared down at the photo silently. “That’s probably a good idea.”

 

There was a tapping at the window, another owl. Hermione couldn’t have picked a better time for a distraction. She took a deep drink of slightly cold tea while Harry jumped up to get the mail. 

 

Taking a quick bite of scone, Hermione glanced at her list.  There was a sick perversion that went into her tiny little checkmarks. The nauseating swirling in her stomach that accompanied tasks like confirming Ginny’s pregnancy and choosing Ron’s potential fiance did not mesh well with the satisfaction she always got when she marked off something on her list. 

 

“Well, this is interesting.” Harry had torn open the owl-post haphazardly and was staring at a letter and holding a familiar looking disk. Sure enough, when she looked, she saw it was a portkey identical to the one she had received that morning. A flat disk, engraved with the words ‘Malfoy Portkey’.

 

“Is that silver do you think?” Ron wondered out loud, taking the disk while Hermione scanned the note.

 

Potter,

 

Do not, under any circumstances, leave Granger alone. The whole damn school has lost its mind over this thing. It’s not safe. 

 

The binding ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow at four o’clock. My mum wants Granger there by three. If you don’t know how to activate a portkey, be sure to ask someone. Last thing I need is for Granger to end up splinched in Siberia.  

 

Malfoy

 

“Wonder what’s going on?” Harry asked as she passed the note to Ron and pulled out her own letter. 

 

“Even more interesting than that, I don’t think he knows his mum wrote me herself.” 

 

Ron snatched the letter first. Hermione grabbed the package sitting beside her and put it precisely in the middle of the table. The four of them stared at tiny harmless looking box while the letter was passed around. 

 

“This letter is awfully nice,” Ginny commented. “I’m not sure we can trust it.” 

 

“Which is why I have not opened the box.” It was nice to share a smile with the girl, the snotty ice between them having thawed as quickly as it had frosted. Apparently Ginny had decided to forgive Hermione’s unwanted engagement. The girl’s legendary temperament was as changeable as the wind.  

 

“Well, best get on with it,” Harry reached out carefully, as if the thing were full of live scorpions, and opened the box. Inside was a purple silk bag. Hermione lifted it out, opened it up, and let the heavy jewelry slide into her palm. As the letter suggested it was a ring, an extremely beautiful and surprisingly delicate ring. She had half expected some God-awful monstrosity with the letter M square in the center. Instead, it was something she could see herself wearing. Five round diamonds and two lovely sparkling sapphires, centered on a detailed gold band. She could feel the magic pulsing in her palm. The ring almost vibrated with it, a reverberating feeling of safety and love she would not have expected to come from the Malfoys. This ring was definitely cherished; she could sense it. Regardless of anything else, it was truly a gesture of trust for Narcissa to send her such a valuable piece of their family history. 

 

Distrusting her own visceral reaction, she set the ring on the table. It could just be part of the magic:lull her into feeling safe so she would put it on. Everyone else got close, rubbernecking to get a good look without touching, while she got out her notes on curse detecting. She told her friends to step back and fired off a series of spells that she was reasonably certain would reveal any enchantments, charms, or curses that would cause a change in behavior, mind control, or poison. With each spell the ring glowed a bright blue, passing each test. Out of an abundance of caution she made her way down every detection spell on her list, just to be safe, but the first three pretty much put her mind at ease. This ring was infused with protection spells, layered one over the other. A sense of age and time cloaked the magic, giving her the impression of years and years worth of reinforced enchantments. 

 

The magic was dense and powerful, but not malicious. It also seemed to know her. She felt drawn to it, and she detected a touch of feminine power that answered each spell she cast, a little acknowledgement that she had every right to examine it, that it welcomed the touch of her magic. In the end, even though she was certain that the ring meant her no harm, the slight sense of sentience made her nervous. She knew that powerful magical objects over time sometimes took on a sort of awareness and sense of purpose. Sometimes even developed a distinct temperament. It wasn’t necessarily evil, but her experiences with horcruxes in the past made her wary. She didn’t know if she would consent to wear it. 

 

Satisfied, she put another little tick mark on her to-do list.

 

A loud pounding at the window caused everyone to jump a little. Hermione goggled at the sight of Malfoy hovering outside their window. It took her a split second to realize he was aboard broomstick and another half-second to snatch her ring up off the table shoving it in her pocket. She didn’t know why she didn’t want him to see it, but for some reason  the thought unnerved her. 

 

Harry hurried to the window while Hermione put Narcissa’s letter back in her folder. She glanced around to make sure there was nothing else that Malfoy shouldn’t see before placing her own personal privacy spell on both her to-do list and her notes to protect them from prying eyes before she slid them into her bag. Satisfied with her security measures, she noxed her listening spell, deliberately keeping busy so she didn’t have to watch Malfoy grasp the windowsill and swing inside in one fluid motion.

 

Malfoy glanced around at them, as if he had every right to be in the Gryffindor common room, before addressing Hermione directly. “So, there is a problem.” 

 

“Are those the only words you know?” she asked, feeling distinctly discombobulated to have Malfoy in her space. Gryffindor tower was a sanctuary, having a Slytherin amongst the burgundy decor felt downright invasive. He was wind-tossed in a way that still looked like he’d stepped off the cover of a magazine which irritated her further. No one should look that good just off broomstick. His cheeks had a healthy flush that didn’t look at all ruddy, the way her own cheeks got in the cold. His designer haircut still managed to look debonair despite being abused by the wind. And his leather riding gear hugged his long lithe form like a second skin. He must have come from Quidditch practice; she knew they practiced early some days. He had that Quidditch pitch smell of grass and sunshine that she typically associated with her boys and did not like him sharing. 

 

He gave her that smile of his that was growing familiar. A slow showing of even white teeth that was just a little on the teasing side. She crossed her arms defensively in response. 

 

“The Ministry jokers are on premises looking for you right now. Apparently your suitors want your mental health evaluated. They are claiming you must be imperiused or bonkers to have agreed to this engagement. We have to get you out of here, right now.” 

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she exclaimed even as Ron agreed with her suitors.

 

“They do have a point, Hermione, it’s a bit off-center to go running off alone and agree to marry Malfoy of all people.” 

 

Hermione resisted giving Ron a foul look and tried to keep her composure; she didn’t want to pile on in front of the enemy as it were. Malfoy was giving her boyfriend a foul enough look for the both of them. Besides, if she gave into her emotions she might have another meltdown. She could feel that clawing, anxious, screaming feeling blooming again in her chest. The whole reason she had agreed to marry Malfoy was to get a respite, but these Ministry goons just would not let up. It was one thing after another. Jesus, she’d complied with their stupid law, at least on the surface, and they were  _ still  _ coming after her.

 

“They can’t just force a mental eval on her,” Harry added belligerently, both feet apart, arms crossed, his dislike of Malfoy firmly stamped on his features. Hermione noted that he had placed himself quite firmly between the enemy and Ginny and wondered in a corner of her mind if he even realized he had done it. “She’s of age.” 

 

“Why is everything a battle with you people? I’m trying to  _ help _ !” She was pleased to see some exasperation creeping into his voice. She had always enjoyed getting a rise out of Malfoy and knocking down his huge ego a bit. It used to be easier to rile him; this damned composure of his was new. She liked to rub it sideways to prove that underneath his politically correct smile and carefully cool persona lurked the same old spoiled Malfoy who did not like to be challenged. “If they decide she’s mentally incompetent, they can do anything they want with her. She doesn’t have any magical family that needs to be consulted. After the binding tomorrow, she’ll be under Malfoy protection, but right now she is vulnerable.” 

 

She wondered if he, Malfoy, could even be classified as the enemy any longer. Here he was, in her space, giving her info. The war was over, trials complete, punishment meted out where it was due. She had testified for him, because it was the right thing to do. He had been in an impossible situation, and that had to be taken into account. Yet here she was, clinging to her prejudice against Slytherins , just as he had accused her of doing earlier this week. 

 

Just because he’d always been on the other side of right, didn’t mean that he was wrong now. It didn’t mean he was right either. He always had his own reasons for doing things, she had to remember that. No matter how much he reminded her of her boys at this moment. Swooping in on broomstick, defending her right to be clear of Ministry interference, seeming to be on their side. 

 

Hermione decided to ruminate on Malfoy’s enemy status another time, ignored all the byplay, and jumped right to the heart of the matter. “Why are they wanting to have me evaluated in the first place? I complied with their stupid law.” 

 

The snotty condescension in his tone when he replied to her, the irritated curl to his lip, was all vintage Malfoy, and she was glad to see it. It seemed way more genuine than his forced politeness. “You people can not possibly be this naive. This whole stupid law is a swipe at us. The old pureblood guard. You are not supposed to agree to marry me. I’m supposed to twist in the wind, alone forever because no decent girl outside of my circle will have me.”

 

Actually, on further examination, Hermione didn’t think his malice was directed at her, rather at the Ministry, as he went on, obviously furious. “As usual they read society sentiment completely wrong. They want to relegate the old families to shameful remnants of the past, render our influence moot. Instead, I’ve got twice as many brainless twits begging to be the next Mrs. Malfoy. The whole nasty law is backfiring in the worst way. Society is in a violent uproar. Various factions are maneuvering and manipulating, trying to use this flux in the status quo to either keep their status or move up in the world. Entire fortunes are changing hands, there have already been a dozen bloody murders. Kingsley and his entire cohort are disgraced and hanging onto power by a thread.” 

 

Hermione knew she was gaping at him, but she’d had no idea things were so volatile. She’d been so focused on her personal mission, avoiding her suitors, and gossip that she hadn’t really been in public outside of classes. 

 

“And here you sit, in your gilded tower, trying to figure out how to marry for love. You have no idea the power and influence you have.” He was shaking his head, his voice softening to a bemused, awed whisper as he stared at her, his expression disbelieving. He let out a incredulous laugh. “I honestly used to think that you were just playing innocent, but you really are so disconnected from our world that you don’t know. So genuinely clueless that you don’t even see all that is going on. The beloved muggle-born sweetheart Hermione Granger bestowing her favor on the Malfoys has set the whole damn law on its ear. Instead of us evil Death Eater families being punished with extinction, either with no heirs or substandard heirs, I’ve literally managed to snag the cream of the crop. Beautiful, intelligent, powerful, influential, publicially beloved Hermione fucking Granger. They will do anything to stop it. The Ministry, your other suitors who want your status for themselves and their heirs, everyone and anyone who hates my family. It’s not safe here, Granger.”

 

He glanced at her friends who were also staring at him slack jawed. “Tell her, Potter, you know the Ministry can’t be trusted. Let’s just get her out of here. We can figure out what to do at another location.” That hard edge to his voice snapped her out of her shocked silence, and she decided to pick apart that little revealing speech word by word at another time. It was way too much to process on the fly. Just the word ‘beautiful’ rolling off his tongue in connection with her name was too much. Never mind the litany of other positives he had rattled off. 

 

“If they are looking for me, how the hell am I supposed to get out of here?” she asked, realizing that just changing locations would buy her time to verify his story and decide how to act. He held up his broomstick and she laughed in his face. Before she could tell him that there was no way in hell she was getting on a broomstick, the Fat Lady caught her attention, and they all froze to listen. 

 

She was arguing with someone. Practically shouting: “I don’t care who you are! I simply cannot open the portrait without a password!”  They all shared a startled look, Malfoy as wide-eyed as the rest of them. She was being loud on purpose, warning them. “You go ahead and fetch the Headmistress...I’ve no doubt that she knows the password.” 

 

Hermione glanced around, trying to figure out where could hide. She felt very much like she was five and had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She had half decided that she would not hide, that she would face this problem head-on, when she found herself being pushed onto Malfoy’s broomstick and shoved out the window. 

 

If Malfoy hadn’t been wrapped around her, she would have plunged to her death in seconds. She had a handful of terrifying moments where she fought him -  trying to get back onto the windowsill and onto solid ground, before he managed to guide the broom away from the window. Followed by an extremely upsetting wrestling match where he tried to pry her arms out from around his neck so he could breath while he hissed angrily at her to just calm down and be fucking quiet. She finally managed to claw her way out of blind panic enough to loosen her grip before he lost control of the broom. He twisted around enough to flatten them up against the wall in such a way that she felt at least slightly sturdy. Her acute fear was nauseating, blood pounding through her head, vision spotty from lack of air. 

 

Ironically, the only stable thing in her tiny world was Malfoy who had a very firm grip on her, letting her cling to him tightly as she could, while he whispered in her hair. “Breathe, Granger, I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall. Take a deep breath for me. Just pull in some air. Hold it. Let it out. That’s a good girl. Take another breath for me. In, hold it, out.” 

 

She kept her eyes screwed shut, her thighs clamped like death around the tiny twig suspending them hundreds of feet in the air and focused on his hypnotizing voice. Breathe in, breathe out. That was all that mattered. He wouldn’t let her go. She wasn’t going to fall. He was steady as a rock, and she didn’t care that she was clinging to that strength, as long as he didn’t let her fall. She lost track of time for a few moments but finally became aware that it was cold, her school uniform was not appropriate for the chilly September air, and she calmed enough to really shiver. Still, she would rather freeze than have her solid Malfoy-shaped rock shift around to try to wrap her in his cloak. A new burst of fresh panic had her struggling, but he kept firm hold of her. “Relax, Granger, I won’t let you fall. I’m just sharing my cloak.”

 

The warmth was enveloping after the chill, and having something solid wrapped around her helped calm her irrational fear so she could quit wiggling and concentrate on breathing and listening. They drifted a little closer to the window as they both strained to hear the conversation going on inside the tower.   

 

“Hermione’s been gone for ages. I think she had an early breakfast and then was off to see her lawyer.” Ron was always the best liar amongst them. 

 

“Oh, this bag?” Ginny chimed in, and she realized that her friends were speaking louder than natural so that she could hear. Whoever was in the room with them was just a inaudible murmur, but Ginny’s voice was carrying. “This is my bag, of course.” 

 

“She’s not up there, sir.” A female voice she didn’t recognize. “Not in her room, the girls’ tower, anywhere. We even checked the trunks and closets.” 

 

“No one wants to hurt her, Harry.” Hermione wasn’t sure, but that might be old toad-face herself, Umbridge. “We just want to get her the help she needs. You don’t want to keep her from getting the help she needs, do you?” 

 

“Boys’ dorm clear!” Yet another voice.

 

“Withholding information from a Ministry official is a crime, Mr. Potter.” That was clearly Kingsley. “Being a celebrity does not exempt you from the law.” 

 

“I’m sorry, Minister, but I don’t know where she is. Last I saw her was early this morning.”

 

“That is a  _ LIE _ !” Something slammed, maybe a hand on the table. Hermione jumped in her skin, holding in a whimper and clung a little harder to Malfoy. “The house elves said they brought breakfast to this room this morning for the four of you. Now you tell me where she is right this minute or I’ll have veritaserum administered!”

 

“You need to have Wizenmongot authority to issue veritaserum,” McGonagall's pinched angry voice was deadly serious. “I will not allow you to abuse my students. Being Minister of Magic does not exempt you from the law either, Mr. Kingsley.  I’ve let you search Gryffindor tower; she is clearly not here. There is no need to threaten innocent students!” 

 

Some more hissed conversation that she couldn’t quite make out. Malfoy took them another inch closer to the window. “What kind of school are you running here Headmistress? Girls gone missing, belligerent students, deliberate obstruction of my search. Make no mistake, there will be an inquiry.” His booming voice certainly carried well. “I want her found! Search everywhere again.” 

 

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley. In light of your friend being missing, you are excused from morning classes.” McGonagall’s voice gave nothing away, but Hermione immediately knew that she was giving them permission to help her get out of this situation, and she wanted to cry. It was such a relief to have at least one adult person in this crazy nightmare willing to help even a little bit. “Be sure to update me immediately if Miss Granger should contact you.”  

 

There was some slamming and then silence. Harry poked his head out the window and whispered at them. “Hold tight, I gotta fetch my broom.” 

 

Before she really had time to dwell on the fact that she was still hovering in midair and get even further worked up again, Ron, Ginny, and Harry had all exited via the window. And then she had to concentrate on not throwing up, not letting loose the rabid screams that were clawing at her throat, not choking Malfoy, because they were hurtling through space towards the relative safe cover of the Forbidden Forest. 

* * *

 

Thank you so much to lightofevolution who helped me work out all of the details in this chapter, any mistakes are definitely my own. Also lots of love to Barton81 for the super fast and thorough editing job!


	10. Where to Miss?

Much to her mortification, Ginny and Harry had to literally pry her off Malfoy. She was shaking so badly and her legs were so wobbly she just sat there and hugged Ginny for a good five minutes while the boys argued about what to do in hushed whispers. She was going to kill them. She was going to murder those boys. They knew she was deathly afraid of broomsticks and heights and flying and all things stupidity related. The word ‘broomstick’ penetrated her consciousness and she whipped her head around, spooked.

 

“We will keep close to the ground,” Ron was saying, “just use the speed of the brooms to get us past the anti-apparition barrier. She’s not going to freak out three feet off the ground.”

 

“It’s clearly a phobia! She almost broke my neck in panic; you simply cannot expect her to get astride a broomstick. We are going to have to walk. I don’t think it’s very far,” Malfoy was hissing back, aiming an angry thumb in her direction. 

 

“We don’t have time for her silly aversion to brooms. Those Ministry berks will be searching the forest any minute now!” Ron growled, trying to speak over Malfoy without being any louder. 

 

Ironically, her familiar anger with Ron helped center her nerves a bit, and Hermione pulled back from Ginny, drying her tears and pushing her ruined hair behind her ears. She wished she had a headband or a hair tie to contain the wild mess, but she had nothing on but her school uniform and Malfoy’s cloak. Embarrassed to be wearing his clothes but still grateful for the warmth, Hermione pulled it about her, ridiculously comforted by the enveloping feel of it. She knew that she was associating the cloak with the tiny shred of stability it had offered her during her ordeal, and that feeling comforted by a stupid cloak was irrational, but she needed the reassurance just a little longer.  

 

“You can’t just ‘get over’ a phobia, you moron!” Malfoy was shouting in a whisper.

 

“We should never have stopped before we hit the barrier!” Ron snarled back, equally quiet. 

 

“I had to check on her! You know how afraid she is of heights, Ron! What if she passed out? Malfoy would have tumbled the damn broom!” Harry whisper shouted angrily, pointy finger aimed in her direction. The three of them were all worked up, huddled in an angry circle, gesturing and pointing and trying to be quiet while she recovered.

 

“I’m telling you, the barrier is close. We can be there in five minutes. It’s not going to kill you to walk a half mile.” Malfoy could even sneer in an undertone. “Even in those ragged shoes.” 

 

Hermione put aside the slightly surreal feeling that came over her watching Harry and Ron and Malfoy attempt to work together in order to insure her safety and replaced it with her usual no-nonsense attitude. She had a million and one things to ruminate over but right now they were not quite out of the woods, so to speak, and they needed to focus on getting out of this mess. 

 

She marched up to her friends, having had just about enough of people talking about her, over her, for her. She let her anger at being pushed around off its leash just a bit, using that spark of outrage to keep her focused, keep her on point. Any decision making from this point forward was going to be hers. “We’ll get on the brooms if we hear any pursuit,” she declared, letting everyone know she was back with them mentally. “As it is, we had best get moving.” 

 

Hermione had thought her previous embarrassment was the absolute worst she was capable of feeling. She had obviously underestimated just how mortified a person could be.  Malfoy turned to face her and she almost died of shame. Malfoy looked like he’d been whipped with a garden rake. He had a very nasty scratch down the side of his face, his neck and collarbone also marked with gouges. Blood stained his pale, wildly tangled hair, and he had deep purple bruises coming in on one high cheekbone and his swollen jaw. 

 

“Oh my God, Malfoy!” she exclaimed, horrified. “I’m so sorry.” She noticed a deep purple blotch on his neck with a distinctive shape and covered her mouth with both hands. “Is that a bite mark?” 

 

“Not your fault, Granger,” he growled, his eyes cutting towards the boys. “If I’d have known that I’d be flying with a wildcat today, I’d have cast a couple dozen protective charms. I’ll know better in the future.” 

 

Ron let out a loud snicker, copied by Harry and Ginny, and Hermione gave them a look. This was not in any way, shape or form funny. 

 

“That’s what you get when you tangle with a Gryffindor,” Ginny taunted, and they all erupted in another round of laughter.

 

She whipped out her wand, sick with guilt and desperate to repair the damage she had done. “Here, let me do some healing spells!” 

 

Malfoy shied away from her wand, bringing up a hand to divert her. “Let's get out of here first. Do you know how to neutralize a scent trail? I’ll do acidic, you do base.” 

 

She turned, sufficiently diverted by the task and not wanting to push her magic on him. She had certainly already done enough damage already. Still, even as she cast low and high and wide, erasing any trace of their path from magical or physical tracking methods, she couldn’t help but look at him from the corner of her eye as he mirrored her spellcasting perfectly. The damage was awful. She couldn’t believe she’d marked him up so badly. She gave Ron, who was still snickering, a desperate look, and he finally straightened up and started trying to put a serious face on. They finished their magic and were quick to get on the move. 

 

Malfoy led the way, quick as a rabbit, through the woods, parallel with the path but not actually on it, and she fell to the rear of the group with Ginny. After only five minutes or so, she was huffing pretty good and feeling a pinch in her side from Malfoy’s rapid pace and the exertion of trudging through the undergrowth and dodging roots and rocks. She wasn’t exactly into nature hikes on her best day, and this was definitely not her best day. She was just about to suggest a rest when Malfoy called back that he could see the marker. Anxious to get out of the woods and somewhere safe, she powered through and tried to speed up as much as she could. 

 

The group clustered around the white, waist high stone that signified the end of the Hogwarts wards that prevented magical travel, catching their breath, and waiting for her. Malfoy pulled out a now familiar looking disk and slapped it on the marker. “Anyone object to heading to Malfoy Manor?” he asked as she wheezed up to the group.

 

“Won’t that be the next place they look for me?” she asked, staring down at the portkey, ambivalent about their next location as long as it wasn’t here. Anything was an improvement. 

 

“Maybe, but I can seal off the Manor to portkey, floo, and apparition. Lock down the physical security. It’s probably the most secure place in Britain if you want to avoid the Ministry.” There was a small silence, and she was sure that everyone was remembering that Voldemort himself had battened down quite comfortably at Malfoy Manor. When no one objected, Malfoy took out his wand, calling her attention to the wretched scratched condition of his beautiful hands, and cast the Portus spell. 

 

Suddenly, it was very important to Hermione to not go to Malfoy Manor. True, Malfoy had been very accommodating of her wishes thus far, but he also desired her compliance. She needed to remember that. And she needed him to know that her compliance was never a foregone conclusion.

 

“Wait. There is no reason for everyone to miss classes over this.”  It did make sense to go to Malfoy Manor. But it wasn’t the  _ only _ plan that made sense, and she didn’t want to be stuck there. She would go to Australia, check in on her parents. No one knew their location, not even the boys. “I have somewhere safe to go until tomorrow. Harry, you take Ginny and Ron back to the castle. You have a Malfoy portkey to meet me on location tomorrow at 2:30.”

 

Harry was already shaking his head, mouth opened to protest her plan, when Malfoy spoke up. “You shouldn’t be alone. If you don’t want Potter to provide security, than I can call in my personal team to escort you wherever you would prefer to go.” 

Hermione really hated her sense of humor sometimes. It was bad and wrong to have to fight back a laugh as she watched Harry close his mouth, flabbergasted. The look on his face when he realized he and Malfoy were about to have the same argument, about to agree, was just priceless to her. She smothered the impulse to let a smile loose and rolled her eyes hard, being difficult and rude, just to make Harry feel better. 

 

“I don’t need security to visit my parents. Everyone needs to head back to the castle and act like they have no idea where I am. I’ll send the Headmistress a note stating I’ve had a family emergency. Plausible deniability. We are not subverting a Ministry summon; I’m simply unavailable and unreachable.” The more she spoke, the more she liked her plan. 

 

Malfoy gave her a flat look, a look she was starting to realize meant she had somehow disappointed him. “The first place they will look for you is your parents. You need to choose a location they can’t find you.” He sounded a little strained, like he was trying to be reasonable but being pushed to the very limits of his patience. As if all of his reasonableness was only to pacify her, and he fully expected to get his way. She felt her metaphorical heels dig in a little deeper. 

 

She looked down at her hands, noted the damage, the blood under her nails, and took out her wand, doing some quick cleansing charms. “They can look all they want, they won’t find me. My parents security is impenetrable, and God himself doesn’t know their location. I designed their defences against not only Voldemort, but the Ministry, knowing that the organization could be compromised.”

 

She twisted her wand in her hair, trying to contain the mess of it and was insanely grateful when Ginny silently handed her a hair tie. Quick as thought, she plaited her hair into a messy braid, feeling absurdly more human with her hair pulled back and her hands clean. It was the little things that mattered. She shoved her wand in the pocket of her skirt she had sown there specifically to hold her wand, snugly next to the hidden ring, and suddenly she felt a whole lot more capable. More like a woman running a covert evade and escape mission and less like a scared little girl lost in the woods. 

 

“We are wasting time here.” Ron glanced around the empty forest as though he expected to be descended on any second, and for a heartbeat she was reminded of those awful days avoiding snatchers while they hunted horcruxes. “The Ministry could find us at any moment. If this requires further discussion, then we should Apparate to a second location and discuss it there.” 

 

Malfoy didn’t speak over Ron, didn’t clamor to be heard. He simply spoke at the same time...as if Ron didn’t exist, as if he wasn’t speaking. The casual dismissal of her friend lit a low flame in her blood and she found herself glaring quite rudely at Malfoy as he spoke. “Your parents are still under security measures you put in place during the war?” It was a loaded question, and she wasn’t about to explain to him that her parents  _ liked _ those security measures. That they liked the fact that magical people had no access to them. After she had wiped their memories, once they understood the far-reaching ramifications of her magic and their defenselessness against it, suddenly her extreme protection measures seemed appropriate to them. But she wasn’t about to go into all of the complications and long-lasting damage that had been done to her relationship with her Muggle parents now. Or ever, with him. 

 

For a moment her breath was painful to get into her lungs, but she did her best to pretend the question didn’t affect her and shrugged. “Yes, that is correct.” She turned her attention to Ron, dismissing Malfoy as thoroughly as he had dismissed her friends. If anyone was going to be ignored it was going to be him. He wasn’t part of their group, no matter how he seemed to be horning in on their escape. “There isn’t a whole lot to discuss here. I just need to heal Malfoy’s face, and I can go on my way.” 

 

Harry, who’d been impatiently waiting to get a word in edgewise, finally butted in. His mouth twisted and sour from agreeing with Malfoy, but his voice determined and firm. “There is a whole lot to discuss, Hermione Granger. You’ve completely lost the plot if you think your friends are just going to let you go off by yourself when you are being hunted by the Ministry!”

 

“This is the first place they will look for you, Hermione!” Ron snarled, frustrated. “This or Hogsmeade are the only two places to leave Hogwarts through unauthorized channels. They will have finished the search by now. Just because Ministry officials are incompetent doesn’t mean the Aurors are. We need to change locations!” 

 

“Let’s just go to the damn Manor! We can discuss where you want to go and who you want to go with you from there. Or I can put you up in a guest room, whatever you want.” Whatever patience Malfoy had in reserve had clearly been exhausted, and he was almost as frustrated as Ron. It was slightly amusing, or would have been if she wasn’t unable to separate the damage done to him and her guilt about it from the situation. 

 

She tried to remember those frantic moments on the broom, figure out when she had bitten him like a frightened animal. It was all a blur. She supposed the majority of scratching and gouging, and, dare she think it, biting had occured in those first moments when she was trying to get away from him and back onto the windowsill. He’d had a death grip on her, which later had been comforting, but in those moments had held her anchored where she did not want to be. She remembered quite clearly being latched onto the windowsill, kicking and thrashing, while Ron pried her fingers loose and Malfoy pulled her into his body. That would explain the bruises, even the scratches. But even though she had ended up facing him on the broom, she still didn’t picture herself as a biter.

 

Except right now she felt like she could bite through metal. “You are not listening! If we want to avoid implicating everyone in a plot to avoid ministry officials, then I need to Apparate alone, and you all need to go to class.” She gave Harry a quick reassuring squeeze and tried to continue with a softer voice. “I won’t have any trouble avoiding the Ministry now that you have all given me such a nice head start.”

 

A lone dog bark, quickly taken up by an entire pack, broke the tense standoff. Hermione pulled out her wand to Apparate out of there, trying to shoo the boys, but Ron grabbed her arm in a fierce grip. “It’s too late for us to get away clean, we need to stick together.” 

She processed that for half a heartbeat before sighing in agreement. 

 

“Fucking finally,” Malfoy snarled, downright livid at this point, and the five of them circled around the portkey, fingers hovering over the silver piece, spurred on by the baying of dogs closing in. Hermione could hear people crashing through the woods, and her heart began to really hammer in distress. “On three: one, two…”

 

As Malfoy said “three”, she touched her finger to the cold metal and felt the tug of portkey travel at her navel. Seconds later, she was tossed free of the magic to the floor. However, much to her surprise, she didn’t crash. Cradled by air, magic caught her and tossed her back to her feet. She saw everyone around her being magically centered and looked around in curiosity. They were in a completely unfurnished room with only a lovely wooden stand and a basket. In the basket were dozens of identical silver portkeys. Malfoy tossed his in the basket with a click.

 

Taking a deep cleansing breath, Hermione spared a handful of heartbeats to just enjoy having gotten away clean and safe. Then, she reordered her thoughts lightning fast and spun to confront Malfoy. 

 

“Sorry about the rough landing,” he was saying as he put away his wand. “I’ve been meaning to have the Apparition softening cushion calibrated. I’ll have it done before your next visit.” 

 

How thoughtful of him. Like she’d be visiting the manor for tea every other Tuesday. She crossed her arms, put her interrogation face on, and squared off. “What were you talking about when you said there had been murders and bribes? Just how much do you know about this law that you have not told us?” 

 

He sighed, clearly irritated, and she was relieved to see her friends all adopt similar scowls in Malfoy’s direction, presenting a united front. The moment stretched a little too long before he spoke, quiet, polite, and annoying. “Let's get out of the Apparition room and somewhere we can talk.”

“This location is fine with me, thank you,” she argued back in an equally polite tone. Even as she said it she knew she was being unreasonable. But damn it. She was done with reasonable. She’d very reasonably went along with the law. She’d very reasonably went along with getting engaged. She’d very reasonably went along with the escape from Hogwarts. Now she was standing right smack dab in the middle of Malfoy territory, and she wasn’t moving one damn inch until she got some answers. If Malfoy wanted reasonable, he should have picked someone else. 

 

Ginny leaned over, whispering to her, red with embarrassment. “Actually, you are not supposed to linger in an Apparition space Hermione, no one else can use it while we are in here…” 

 

Since when did Ginny Weasley care what you were supposed to do? So what if they were in Malfoy’s fancy smancy Apparation room? She had been rushed, pushed, nudged, broom-napped, and wedged into an engagement contract. She didn’t care if the whole world had to wait, she would be taking her time.

 

“Too bad,” she didn’t bother to lower her voice. “I like it in here and I want to know what the hell is going on!” 

 

Malfoy crossed his arms to mimic her and gave her a slow once over that had her hackles rising. He looked ridiculously good in his Quidditch gear. The custom fit must have cost a fortune. What kind of asswipe dropped a months salary on practice gear?  She was hotly aware that his outfit was incomplete because she was currently draped from shoulders to knees in his ridiculously luxuriously soft cloak. She could feel a blush staining her cheeks and resisted the urge to whip the cloak off and hand it back to him. 

 

“Who’s been murdered, Malfoy?” A horrible thought occurred to her. “Was it you? Did  _ you _ kill someone over this law? 

 

“What the utter fuck? I’ve been at school with you this whole time. When have I had time to run around committing murder?” He snarled, suddenly quite furious, and she was glad to see it. She was sick of his self contained fake politeness. If they were going to be honest, might as well let that fury and dislike off its leash. 

 

Vaguely, she heard Ron and Ginny whispering in the background, heard Harry murmuring that maybe they needed to calm down. She didn’t want calm. She wanted answers. 

 

“Oh don’t play dumb with me. Your family is knee deep in the Dark Arts and has killed before. Who’s dead? And did you have anything to do with it? I deserve to know before I do this binding ceremony with a murderer!” 

 

“We don’t commit murder! We defend what’s ours. With deadly force if necessary! Two totally different concepts. And in case you didn’t notice, oh high and mighty Gryffindor princess...you are current on the list of ‘Malfoy’s shall defend at all costs’ people,  so I wouldn’t be so smug and superior,” he spat at her, taking a threatening step in her direction, practically dripping malice in a way she hadn’t seen on him in years.

 

She didn’t back down, didn’t step back, just gripped her wand securely and leaned in. “So you admit it! You have something to do with the murders and the bribes and the badness!” 

 

“I haven’t admitted to a damn thing!” he shouted, leaning is as well, his face pale with fury and his lips peeled back from his perfect white teeth. “You didn’t even know anyone was murdered until about five minutes ago, and now suddenly you know I must have done it. You really are a piece of work, Granger! Always so quick to judge, to place blame…”

 

Hermione was winding up, seriously considering striking him, as he ranted. He was saying a lot of words, none of them answers, and she was about to lose it for sure. 

 

Ginny seemed to realize that things were about to get much worse and sprang into action. She pushed open the door and started physically pushing the three boys out. They didn’t really resist her, but they didn’t cooperate either, so she had to put her shoulder into stuffing them through the doorway. “Out, out, out!” she barked as she shoved. “We need to have a girls moment. Out, I said! Out with you!” 

 

She finally managed to get the door closed with the boys on the other side and leaned against it dramatically, heaving. “Hermione, I can’t believe you are making me take Malfoy’s side of all people, but you absolutely can not accuse your fiance, in his own house, of murder.”

 

Hermione couldn’t care less if she had offended the precious Malfoy heir. Even if he hadn’t committed murder, which really didn’t seem likely since he  _ had _ been at school, he was right in the middle of the whole mess and couldn’t be trusted. What on Earth was she even doing at his house? Every step had seemed so small, so reasonable. A chain of choices that had made so much sense at the time had led her here, actually standing in Malfoy Manor about to be magically bound to Draco Malfoy. “What was I thinking Ginny? I can’t be engaged to sodding Malfoy. I can’t get magically bound to him! What if I don’t get the law repealed in time? Do you know what that means? That means I’ll have to get naked, with Malfoy! Oh my God, now I’m picturing him naked!”

 

She grabbed her friend’s cloak frantically, pulling her closer. “I can’t have sex with fucking Malfoy. Oh my God, I have to have sex with Malfoy. Malfoy! Draco  _ fucking _ Malfoy will be  _ fucking _ me! What was I thinking? I must be out of my mind. I can’t go through with this. This was such a stupid plan. I can’t marry sodding Malfoy!”

 

Ginny grabbed her shoulders and shook her, hard. Her head flopped back and forth, teeth clicking together forcefully, and her ribs protesting the motion, but it did get her attention. “Hermione, calm down. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Say the word and we are out of here, out the back door, through the front. Whatever, wands blazing if need be. Just. Calm. Down.” 

 

Hermione sank to the floor in a heap and put her head in her hands. Calm down. She could do that. She could calm down. Calming down was what she was good at. Or at least it used to be before she decided she was going to get engaged to Malfoy of all people, running the risk of seeing him naked.  _ Naked _ !

 

Ginny flopped down in front of her, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Hon, we just need to know what you want to do. Do you want to call the whole thing off and leave?”

 

What did she want? It had been so clear just last week. “I want to graduate from Hogwarts. I want to go to medical school and take on a potions apprenticeship. I want to date Ron and go out with my friends and not ever have to worry about evil witches or wizards ever again.” She took a breath. Those goals were still possible and solid and anchored her. 

 

What did she want _ right now _ ? She wanted vengeance. “I want to march down to the Ministry and tell those sorry cowards to shove their stupid law up their you-know-whats and set the building on fire and curse anyone who even thinks about making me follow that stupid law.” 

 

There was a smile in Ginny’s voice when she answered. “Okay, we can do that. But you are probably looking at some time in Azkaban as well as a dramatic wand snapping, and some heavy fines. But you do you.”

 

“Right, no assaulting Ministry employees and destroying property. Got it.” Hermione looked up at her friend, insanely grateful for her support. 

 

“I hate to say it,” Ginny looked a little hesitant but pressed on, “but you seem to have somehow accomplished the next best thing by getting engaged to Malfoy. Kingsley was seriously livid. He wants you found and committed.”

 

Hermione turned that delightful little fact over in her mind. “Why are they so upset? I’m complying with their stupid little law, I picked a pure blooded finance. Super pure blooded, too. Malfoy’s explanation doesn’t make sense. I get that maybe Kingsley doesn’t like Malfoy personally and might wish he was unhappy, but most of those Ministry drones love the freaking Malfoys.” 

 

“I don’t know,” her friend answered sincerely. “It does seem awfully extreme to try to have you committed. No offence, but what is so special about you? I mean you’re beautiful and talented and famous and all, but having you committed because they don’t like who you picked to be your fiance?”

 

Hermione nodded. They were missing great big pieces of the picture here and she needed answers. She climbed to her feet, checking that her braid was still in place and dusting herself off. Not that there was a speck of dust from Malfoy’s immaculate hardwood floor. “Right, I’m just a witch, why all this fuss?”

 

“I think you are right,” Ginny said, adjusting her hair and looking Hermione over before reaching out and straightening her cloak for her. “Malfoy knows more than he’s telling, and we ought to get answers before you agree to do a damn thing.” 

 

The two girls shared a smile, and Hermione was reminded why she loved Ginny so fiercely. It was time to get some answers. Shoulders back, Hermione turned to march out there and calmly insist on the truth for once. 

* * *

  
Sincere thank you to lightofevolution for her sincere sweet patience while she helped me work out the kinks in this and future chapters. All the love and all the hugs and all the praise for her. Thank you so much.


	11. Divulgence

Hermione pushed open the solid oak double doors with both hands and looked around. It was completely opposite of what she remembered. Granted, she had only seen a small section of the house back then, hadn’t been welcomed like a guest. The wide open space really was quite beautiful. Deep, luxurious carpet, sweeping staircases with intricate railings, and picturesque floor to ceiling windows. Pillars held up the massive two story ceiling, and she could see walls of books and lovely furniture and sculptures in between. Malfoy’s house was a sea of white and cream and marble and seemed to dazzle. She spotted the boys perched uncomfortably on sofas in a seating area and headed in that direction. 

 

Malfoy was sprawled in an armchair, holding a glass in one hand and and waving the two of them to have a seat next to the boys with the other. Hermione chose to remain standing. “I’d like to know why you think the Ministry officials are so concerned about who I get engaged to,” she asked firmly. “It shouldn’t matter who I pick as long as the law is being complied with. I don’t understand why they would even be involved in my individual decision and how well I’ve made it. They are not kicking this sort of fuss up about anyone else.” 

 

“If you think so poorly of me, then why did you testify on my behalf to the Ministry?” he answered her question with a question, setting down his glass on a lovely marble table with a click and climbing to his feet slowly. 

 

“Don’t dodge the question! What do you know?” she hissed at him, her hands coming up to her hips defensively. She would not be sidetracked. No matter how bad his face looked or how his eyes locked on her and seemed to be rooting around in her soul for answers. 

 

“I thought I knew why you testified for me.” He tilted his head a bit, staring her down, and she smelled a hint of alcohol on his breath. He continued in the same curious tone, “You see, I thought you testified because it was the right thing to do. Because you were able to look past our silly school rivalry and see that not everyone has the same circumstances as you, the same choices. I believed you when you said that my past and family pressure and loyalties had to be taken into account when judging my behavior, that I was young and had to be given the opportunity to rise above my past. I really really admired you for that.” 

 

He scoffed a laugh, his voice turning bitter and mean, his lips twisting sourly. “But the second you find out there is evil being done, my name is at the top of your suspect list. Because I’m a Malfoy, and despite what you said at the Ministry, I therefore must be bad and wrong. Not only capable of cold blooded murder, but a likely suspect.” 

 

Hermione felt herself blushing despite herself. She had flown off the handle and made some wild accusations. But she was under an enormous sort of pressure, and why couldn’t he just overlook it? Guessing by his scowl, he had no intention of being so kind.

 

“Look...” She took a deep fortifying breath before going on. She never liked admitting she was wrong about anything, and apologizing to Malfoy of all people was especially daunting. “I’m sorry I went a bit off the deep end there; accusing you of being a murderer was wildly inappropriate. I apologize. Now can you please tell me what you know about this current plot from the Ministry to stop our engagement?” 

 

She might come off a bit tart and impatient, but really it was the best he could expect from her. 

 

“Don’t apologize to that git!” Ron burst out, standing abruptly. “He’s never done a damn thing to earn our trust, and you have done nothing wrong by suspecting him!”

 

“No, he’s right, Ron. I was too quick to jump to conclusions without evidence. I am sorry.” She smiled at her friend as he sputtered a bit. This kind of went outside the Gryffindor Code. It was probably written somewhere, ‘ _ thou shalt not apologize to arrogant Slytherins _ ’. 

 

The silence in the room following her little announcement stretched a little too long as Malfoy continued to scowl at her, his arms crossed across his broad chest, his eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. Ron sat back down, clearly disgusted, and no one appeared to know what to say next. Finally, with his usual flair for the dramatic, Malfoy swayed a bit and then flung himself back into his seat, reaching for his glass of clear liquid. Quite clearly not water, as she had assumed. He took a long sip, and she felt stupid standing there. She glanced at her friends, who all looked equally uncomfortable. 

 

Harry opened his mouth to say something, to break the silence, and just then Malfoy spoke, “It’s why I bid on you, you know. Because you testified for my family at the Wizengamot. It said something about you. You didn’t have to. We didn’t deserve it. We were bad and wrong to you for years, and you overlooked our sordid past to stand up and make sure that justice was served. Anyone else would have been delighted to have us paid back for our bad behavior.” He paused, gulping down more of his drink. “But not you,” a wagging finger in her direction, as if he’d caught her doing something naughty. “Not good, kind, gracious Hermione Granger, defender of house elves and terrible teachers and Death Eaters everywhere.” 

 

She found herself sinking down into the chair behind her, intrigued despite herself. How much had he had to drink? The glass was almost empty, but who knew how full it had been to start with. He sucked down some more liquid, and even while she watched, the glass refilled itself. “Lots of people believed we paid you a fortune to testify,” he mused, holding up his glass and staring in it as if it held all his secrets before sipping some more. “Did you know that?”

 

He did look at her as he asked, but he apparently expected no answer, because he didn’t even pause before continuing. “Or people thought we had some terrible dirt on you or something equally unsavory. But I knew the truth, you just did it because you wanted to. Like you always do. Just floating through life all lit up with Gryffindor righteousness while you do whatever you think is best. Follow the rules when they suit you, buck them when they don’t. Honest to a fault except when you need to lie. The perfect student until you need to go off and defeat Dark Lords, you always did have your priorities straight. Not like the rest of us, just going along with things the way they have always been, just because they’ve always been that way.”

 

Hermione was struck with the oddest impulse to comfort him. To go over there and put an arm around his slumped shoulders and pat him reassuringly and tell him that no one knew the right thing to do all the time. That they all were just doing the best they could with the limited information that they had. She almost had to sit on her hands to keep from reaching out. She shared amazed glances with her friends, but everyone kept silent, no one wanting to break this streak of insightful self reflexion by interrupting him. Some boys got boisterous when they drank, some got mean, some got amourous. Malfoy apparently got chatty. That was certainly a useful thing to know.  

 

“So the law drops, smacks us in the face like everyone else. And in a matter of minutes, my mother has all my lawyers and advisors and choices laid out before me. Pretty maids all in a row. It was so easy to pick you.” He admitted, making eye contact, his voice just slightly slurred. “I knew immediately you would be vulnerable. That the wolves would be circling, that Potter and Weasley wouldn’t have the resources to protect you. It was so clear, that this was my chance to do the right thing, too.” He shook his head as if to clear it, and suddenly he was giving her that glacial stare of his that was so familiar and intimidating. All trace of woeful boy were wiped from his face in an instant. “So do you want to stay here for the night, or travel elsewhere?”

 

“What I want is for you tell me why the Ministry is giving me such a hard time,” she said gently, aware that he was likely intoxicated and this might be her one and only chance to get answers from a Malfoy who was not at the top of his mental game. He seemed to know it too and gave her a crooked smile that seemed to imply he knew all her secrets and games and tricks and was wiser than her even while drunk. 

 

“Would you like a drink? Some lemonade maybe. Or some tea, it might be tea time...I’m not sure.” 

 

She shook her head, holding eye contact, letting her expression tell him how serious she was. “Who’s been murdered, Malfoy? What’s going on that I don’t know?” She kept her voice low, serious, leaning forward so he could see that she wasn’t going to let this go. She didn’t spare a look for her friends, who were all quietly watching, not wanting to interrupt her while she tried to get him to talk.    
  


“You don’t have to be worried, Granger. I can protect you.” He barked a sour laugh, back to staring at his drink as he swirled it round with a wrist motion. “One thing my family is good for, protection in dark times. No worries there. You are safe as I can make you. Be even safer come tomorrow.”

 

And just like that all her attempts at coaxing him to talk with a soft soothing voice and firm questions went up like smoke. He just thought he could sit here and avoid all her questions and serve her some tea, and she would nod stupidly and go along with whatever plans he came up with. “Damn it, Malfoy! Quit avoiding the question and just lay out the facts for me. What is going on that I don’t understand?”

 

“I don’t have any facts for you!” He snapped back, tossing the glass aside like so much rubbish, letting it smash unaided into the floor, and throwing his hands up in irritation. 

 

“That’s enough!” Harry snarled, obviously reaching the end of his patience as well. “You tell us right sodding now what you know about this law or we are leaving and taking Hermione with us!” He stabbed his finger with each word, as if he was skewering Malfoy with a knife. 

 

“We shouldn’t even be here in the first place,” Ron added viscously, giving Malfoy the foulest look he was capable of. A look he’d always reserved especially for the Malfoys. “The snake has been doing nothing but dodging questions for half an hour. Let's get out of here and figure out what we need to do to keep Hermione safe. We don’t need his ruddy help.”

 

“Hold on a minute,” Ginny jumped in, twisting towards the boys. “Malfoy knows something, and we are not leaving until he spills his guts!” 

 

Malfoy let out another bitter laugh and looked forlornly at his now empty hand. “Like it matters what I tell you. You are just going to assume I’m lying because I’m a Malfoy and we can’t be trusted.”

 

“Oh for crying out loud!,” Hermione snarled, standing and marching over to his chair to scowl down at him. “I already apologized about that! What more do you want from me?”

 

“What I want,” he shouted, surging to his feet and glaring back at her, “Is for you to mean it.” This close to him the marks on his face were twice as apparent, standing out livid and raw against his angry pale skin. 

 

Hermione balled up her fists, resisting the urge to shove him back in his seat. “I do mean it, you arrogant ass. I don’t apologize unless I mean it. I am however becoming less sorry by the second.” 

 

His face softened as he stared down at her for a handful of heartbeats. “I want you to trust me,” he almost whispered, tilting his head and taking a step in her direction. 

 

Hermione crossed her arms to create a physical barrier and bit her lip. She could keep arguing, and win, but to what end she didn’t know. She glanced at her friends, who were all now standing in an angry huddle and tried to think it through quickly. If Malfoy even thought about threatening her than she’d have a boy fight on her hands faster than she could say Quidditch. The situation needed to be diffused and Malfoy needed to explain this mess to her. “Trust is earned Malfoy. This whole thing makes no sense, and I need to understand. What is it that I’m missing?”

 

“That’s really simple,” he answered, that smirk of his twisting her lips. Who could keep up with his mercurial moods? One moment he was furious, the next thoughtful, sad, angry, and now somehow she’d managed to amuse him again. “You’re missing the ability to be cynical.”

 

“That’s not an answer, Malfoy,” Ron seethed, taking a threatening step.

 

Malfoy didn’t bother to look away from her face to address Ron. “Weasley,” he said, quite calmly. “Who is the true power behind the Ministry?”  

 

Ron scowled and crossed his arms, his lips twisting as if this was a distasteful subject but he did answer promptly. “The Sacred Twenty-Eight.” 

 

Malfoy showed a bit of teeth as he gave her a twisted smile. “And who, Weasley, is the most influential pure blooded family in the mix?”

 

She looked over at Ron, more to avoid Malfoy’s disturbing stare than anything else. Head down, lips pursed. She’d seen that look on Ron a dozen times. His ‘I’m about to stomp you at chess’ look. “Well, until very recently, the Malfoys.” He looked up, wide eyed and startled. “You are suggesting that a power struggle behind the scenes is the root of this marriage law?”

 

Malfoy was nodding and walking away. He made his way swiftly to a beautiful wooden bar and fixed himself another glass of liquor while he spoke. “Exactly. Hermione here has gotten in the way of Kingsley's big power grab, and now he’s trying to minimize the damage. At least, that’s my theory.” 

 

Ron sank back down into his seat, looking absolutely thunderstruck, and Ginny, too, looked like everything had been explained quite neatly. 

 

Hermione shared a look with Harry. As usual, the two of them were left out of the Wizarding loop. 

 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Harry admitted, his voice quiet. He, too, knew they were missing pertinent information. “How on Earth would a Wizarding marriage law make Kingsley more powerful or popular? Everyone hates this law!”

 

“The law was never about stopping another wizarding war. It was about establishing authority over the Malfoys,” Ron said quietly. “The Ministry figured that old families like his would never in a million years agree to toss thousands of years of tradition out the window and take a muggle-born bride. Thus proving to the public that they are just as prejudiced and evil as the Voldemort supporters that got locked up. This whole law is our fault!” 

 

“Don’t be daft,” Malfoy drawled, apparently in a better mood now that he had a drink in hand and they were all being civil again. “This whole thing was brewing long before you were even born.”

 

Hermione dug her fingers into her arms in frustration, looking down at her feet. Her mind racing ahead as she tried to make sense of all of this. “Okay, even if that’s true and this really is just some grand scheme to slap at the Malfoys. That sucks and all, but what does it have to do with me? Why should it matter what witch you get to wed you?” Hermione asked, looking across the room at him, trying to judge his thoughts by his expression. For once, he seemed easy to read. Open and honest. 

 

“I can’t boil down hundreds of years of wizarding history and politics into a simple explanation for you. It’s complicated. Just know it’s not what you think. This law doesn’t have anything to do with you, or improving Wizarding Britain, or preventing another Wizarding war. The thing you have to understand about the government is, all the issues and laws and drama have nothing to do with the people. It has to do with  _ power _ . Who has it, who wants it, who can get it. This law is a power grab, plain and simple, and you are causing their great stupid plan to seize control to go sideways. That’s why Kingsley is so upset.”  Malfoy took a sip of his drink, propping one hip against the bar. “Does anyone else want a drink?”

 

Hermione stared at him. His sincere frown, his genuine troubled voice, his honest gaze. All so convincing. “Kingsley is already Minister of Magic...how could my getting engaged to the wrong person possibly interfere with that? Because I told him I was going to stop this law? That doesn’t make any sense, Malfoy, what purpose on earth could a marriage law serve in a power struggle?” She genuinely had to know how he connected his dots, because this wild theory of his made absolutely no sense. The law was stupid and shortsighted and morally wrong, but it didn’t have anything to do with who was Minister of Magic.

 

“See, Granger, that’s why you don’t understand. You lack the basic premise of understanding that the government never does anything,  _ ever _ , without having an ulterior motive.” Malfoy crossed one foot over the other, seemingly at his ease, but speaking low and fast. “It’s like Weasley said. It’s a power struggle among the Twenty-Eight. Twenty-eight families that can trace their lineage back to the beginning, of which Kingsley is a member. We compete with each other, war with each other, shifting the power balance among us. The Minister of Magic has always been little more than a figurehead. Now, for a long time, the most powerful family in the mix was us. No one questioned the Malfoy authority. But our brand was damaged by the Wizarding War. My father and several other families claimed Imperius and donated tons of money and did lots of charity work and we managed to hang onto our position by a fingernail. But the damage was done, we had less power and had to do more bargaining and make more concessions.” 

 

“The Selwyns, the Shacklebolts, hell, even the Weasleys gained more influence,” he went on, finally explaining. And it was fascinating. All this history that she had no part in but yet was her world. “The last several years were a constant struggle. Along comes the second Wizarding War, and my family reputation is in ashes. The people are outraged, public opinion has drastically shifted, and Kingsley gets appointed as Minister of Magic. This was their chance see, to finally thrust the Malfoys from power and take the reins for themselves. We were all going to prison.”

 

He smiled at her then, a bitter smile to be sure, but sincere. “Then there was you. Hermione Granger, Celebrity Sweetheart. A literal war hero, best friend to Harry Potter.” He let out one of those short laughs of his, shaking his head, apparently thinking this was very funny. “Everything that the public wanted to see in their government. A Muggleborn who faced the odds and won it all. You could have slaughtered a dozen babies in the middle of Diagon Alley, and the public would have insisted that you must have a good reason and pardoned you. And what did you do with all that influence and power? You endorsed the Malfoys!”

 

He was downright laughing. Not one of his usual sneering laughs. Belly chuckles that seemed to be escaping, actually showing teeth. 

 

“This isn’t funny, Malfoy,” she scolded. 

 

“You are right, it’s bloody hilarious,” he managed to get out before he sucked down some more liquor. 

 

Ron slapped his forehead and she glanced over at her friends to see they were all slack jawed and horrified. Malfoy gleefully went on. She didn’t think she’d ever heard such utter delight in anyone’s tone. “It was seriously the most delicious thing I’ve ever seen. There was no way out of our mess, not for at least a dozen generations, and then you pardon us. You lay all the blame at my mad, evil father, and declare mother and I allies in your fight.”

 

“That’s not what happened! I just told the truth,” she argued, horrified herself. She hadn’t been endorsing sodding Malfoy and saying he was innocent. She had just said he didn’t belong in prison.

 

“Yes, I was in the courtroom, I remember. But the media, the people, the lower level government drones...they saw what they wanted to see. And just like that, we were redeemed. Cast in a hero’s light. Fighting the good fight from within. Kingsley was so mad when he was forced to release me from custody that he was practically gnashing his teeth.”

 

He pulled himself together a bit and went on in a more serious tone. “Truth is, the Malfoy position is still vulnerable. My father is in prison, and stewards are handling most of our affairs since I’m so young and not married. The smart thing to do would have been to sew up a wife right away. A Grassley perhaps, someone with strong ties who could shelter and back us as I came into my own. Much to my father’s fury and my mothers horror, I decided to go back and finish my Hogwarts education instead. If anyone is responsible for this law, it’s me. I’m the one who left the bastards an opening.” He tilted his head in acknowledgement of Ron who closed his mouth with a snap when he noticed Malfoy was looking in his direction. 

 

“And so they hatched a plot. A coup. A way to turn the dynamic on it’s head and shift the power off of us and onto Kingsley. They’ve been campaigning for weeks on this: The time of the pure blooded royalty is over, we need to be taken out of power for the good of humanity, for the good of wizarding kind. We can no longer be trusted with such influence. Kingsley got everyone all stirred up about the hidden threat of the remaining pureblood families. I knew they were going to make a move, and we’ve been bracing for it. Never expected a law though. I underestimated just how much influence Kingsley has.” Malfoy slugged back another shot, obviously disgusted with himself. 

 

“We didn’t hear anything about the law either,” Ginny put in softly, her hands clasped above her knees and her face pale. Hermione was reminded that she was in a delicate condition and needed as little stress as possible if she was going to go through with her pregnancy plot. In light of this information it seemed likely that their plot would work. If Harry and Ginny were not the targets of the law, and the main concern was getting Malfoy out of the way, then condoning a Harry Potter happy ending was probably going to work in Kingsley’s favor. 

 

“No, your family wouldn’t have been in support of it. Too close with the Muggleborns. It was all kept very quiet. We hear everything, and yet all my people didn’t hear a whisper. Somehow, Kingsley managed to get enough influential people together to pass this law without us.” Malfoy shook his head, clearly not only irritated with the subject but himself. “It was my youth you see, that gave him the opening, politically speaking.  Lots of purebloods went along with it because it’s a test for me, to see how I will handle the Malfoy affairs. In his arrogance, Kingsley thinks that writing this law behind my back, passing it, is proof that he has more influence than I do. That the Malfoys are out. He’s just now realizing that if I manage to maneuver my way through this law without things getting ugly, this whole thing will only cement my position.” He let out another bitter laugh and gave her a bit of a smile. “If I pass the test, we are back on top.”

 

“That’s why they went after marriage, to demonstrate publically that when the Ministry passes the law, no one is above it, not even the Malfoys. It was something they knew we would fight, that we would balk at. But immediately it blew up in their faces. We are not protesting the law at all, we are supporting it. Half the families are claiming they helped write the law, and that might even be true.” Malfoy spread his hands, shrugging his shoulders as if all of this political maneuvering was no big deal. He indicated her with a slight head tilt. “It’s the jumped up muggle-borns who are protesting the whole thing.”

 

He was practically laughing as he continued on, words coming between gasps. “Don’t you see? That’s why I can’t fight the law. I need to give it my whole support. Because if I don’t, then I’m just like Weasley said, a prejudice pureblood who hates muggleborns. Buf if I throw the full weight of my family and my money and my influence behind you, my fiancée, then I’m an ally. When I’m on  _ your _ side, I’m on the _ right _ side. Standing up against the Ministry for you, with you. A white knight charging in to defend the sweet princess against the evil Ministry that wants to enslave her. The media eats that garbage up.” Hermione wanted to interrupt, remind him that was not even remotely the truth. She wasn’t on his side, she wasn’t on anyone’s side. She hadn’t even known she needed to pick sides! 

 

“It’s so perfect. It’s going so much better than I could have ever even guessed. It’s absolutely the worst thing that could happen to Kingsley’s plot. You were supposed to pick a neutral family or an Order family. Kingsley probably planned to approach you himself and scoop you up as an ally. He figured you would be on the front lines with him, fighting against pure blooded bigots.” He finally sat down his glass, apparently deciding he was sloshed enough. 

 

“My proposal was supposed to be a joke. I was supposed to be laughed at and publicly mocked. And instead of telling my evil Death Eater family to go piss up a rope,  you accepted my proposal. Once again bestowing your favor. It makes a statement. It says that Muggleborns everywhere support the Malfoys. Rumor has it you are even suing Kingsley personally. Everytime I get news, it just gets better and better.” 

 

“So that’s why you bid on me? Because of my influence?” she asked, irrationally hurt. His beautiful speech about how he admired her was apparently a drunken lie. 

 

“No,” he bit out slowly as if she were stupid. “I bid on you for all the reasons I already told you. Any Muggleborn witch would work for my purposes as long as she was willing to cooperate with fighting the law. I’m not overly worried about using your political influence to retain power. It would be viewed as weak to lean on one’s wife's position in society. It’s the reason why I didn’t go scoop up a pureblood wife the second my father was in prison. I wanted to stand on my own, not owe anyone.” Well, if she did end up marrying the sod she knew just how to get him to spill. Apparently when you gave Malfoy enough liquor he spilled all his secrets. He’d spoken more, revealed more, in five minutes than all of their other encounters combined over seven years.

 

He crossed his arms, again on the defensive. Apparently, even questioning his murky motives was offensive. Well, tough. If he wanted someone who wouldn’t question him he’d picked the wrong witch. 

 

“Problem is not many witches are interesting in fighting a law that makes them filthy rich and influential. You’re  the only witch I know who doesn’t care about that.” He kind of squinted at her like she was a puzzle, going on in a more musing tone. “Honestly, I didn’t think Kingsley would be so stupid as to go after you directly. Politically, it’s suicide. I just figured you were going to need help and would be a great ally. I wonder if Kingsley had promised you to one of the families in order to gain a signature on this law?” 

 

“Like who?” Ron asked darkly, and Hermione was surprised to see the fury on the boys’ faces when she glanced over. She forgot sometimes just how protective they could be. 

 

“I don’t know, Weasley,” Malfoy answered, no malice in his tone, suddenly thoughtful again. “Selwyn's lawyer got immediately nasty. He’s the one who started the petition to require Granger to give each suitor due consideration. But if I had to guess, I’d go with Blaise Zabini. He’s been besotted with Granger for years, and I’ve known him to be downright diabolical when it comes to getting his way. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to hear he’d had Granger drugged and brainwashed. Memory charms are a specialty of his family. My team is working on getting me more information.” 

 

“Blaise Zabini has barely said two words to me, ever!” Hermione exclaimed, and Ginny burst out laughing.

 

“Hermione, you really can be quite blind sometimes. Blaise has been giving you googly eyes for at least two years!” She giggled. “He was furious when you started going round with Ron.”

 

What? How could she not know that? 

 

“Do you think Zabini would go after Hermione physically?” Harry broke in over the laughter.

 

“I don’t know, but tomorrow I’ll douse her in protection spells so dense she’ll barely be able to walk.” Malfoy replied, dead serious, making eye contact with Harry. “He so much as lays a dirty look on her and there will be magical consequences. The Malfoy engagement protection enchantments are wicked strong. As much as it sucks, we’ve got to go through with the ceremony; at least she’ll be as protected as I can possibly make her without locking her in a box.” 

 

“ _ She _ ’s right here!” Hermione butted in. Both boys’ heads swiveled to stare at her, and she realized she didn’t really have anything of value to say. She just didn’t like being talked about instead of talked to. “What exactly goes on in this super secret special Malfoy binding ceremony anyway?”

 

Ron ignored her and spoke over her. “What I don’t understand is why we are still going along with this whole stupid plot in the first place! If being engaged to Malfoy is causing all of this pissing contest blowback to come back on Hermione, why doesn’t she just break her contract with Malfoy and figure out some other way to skirt the law?”

 

“And do what?” Ginny snapped back at him. “She’ll be right back where she started. Too many suitors she doesn’t want and the Ministry trying to control her. At least getting engaged to Malfoy is exactly what they don’t want.” 

 

“She can’t go back to school either way until we figure out what to do about the Ministry wanting to toss her in the mental ward!” Harry added. 

 

“Breaking my contract is stupid,” Malfoy argued. “As soon as it’s complete, she will be under my protection, my custody. No one will be able to touch her without going through my army of lawyers!” 

 

“What do you mean do what?” Ron barked, furious. “She can come to her senses and go with our original plan! I’ve still got the fert…” 

 

Ginny slapped a hand over Ron’s mouth before he could spill their secrets, and Harry grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the seating area to a corner. “Just need a moment mate,” he called to Malfoy before Ginny cast a silencing spell and they began to argue. Guessing by the amount of finger pointing and hand waving, the couple was telling Ron off for being a big mouth. 

 

Hermione took the opportunity to cross over to Malfoy and have a quick word. She still had questions. He was staring daggers over at the bubble of silence her friends had created. With his head turned like that, the gouges at his throat were emphasized and she was hit with a new wave of guilt. She should have insisted on healing him earlier. 

 

“Just what was your original plan?” he asked, turning back to her, eyes far too sharp for someone who’d consumed so much liquor. 

 

“What exactly is involved in this binding ceremony?” she replied, answering a question with a question. It was terribly rude, but turn about was fair play, and she had no intention of confiding in him about the pregnancy plot that was afoot. It was none of Malfoy’s business. 

 

“It’s mostly just vows and protection spells. Malfoys value their brides and our binding reflects that. It’s all about honoring the choice to get married,” he told her, looking down, tilting his head in that way of his. He was once again using a lower tone of voice that wasn’t a whisper but wasn’t meant to carry. His private conversation voice that seemed to skitter down her spine and warm her toes. 

 

“What kind of vows?” she asked, suddenly quite apprehensive. She wasn’t ready to take vows with him. She barely  _ knew _ him.

 

“Just the standard ones. Pretty much every engagement uses them. Fidelity, loyalty, fate bindings. The Ministry let us take out the bit about declaring my undying love. It was the only change they let us make.” There was only a slight bitter turn to his lips, an almost resigned acceptance to his tone. While her heart was banging wildly in her chest, she really didn’t see any alternative to going through with this ceremony. In light of what she now knew, literally any other course of action would be giving the Ministry exactly what they wanted.

 

“So the Ministry has gone over the binding ceremony? My lawyer hasn’t even gotten ahold of it!” she hissed at him, getting even more upset at the thought. Damn it, she ought to know what was in a binding ceremony she was going to participate in long before a ministry paper pusher. They were probably going to publish whatever they had learned in the paper. 

 

“We just sent over the vow portion of the event, and the rest of the affair is none of their damn business.” He took a step closer to her, half glancing in the direction of her friends, and it struck her as shifty. 

 

“What are you hiding?” She conjured up a hundred evil possibilities in a span of seconds. This was a Malfoy ceremony, it couldn’t be good. 

 

“Nothing,” he bit out, still apparently all sensitive about her lack of trust. “It’s a beautiful, sacred ritual. Why should I share it with the Ministry berks? It’s for family and family adjacent.” He scowled down at her, irritation a familiar look on his face that she found strangely endearing. “And apparently you.” 

 

“Why make things more difficult? Maybe if you hadn’t dragged your feet about the binding ceremony, Kingsley wouldn’t be on the hunt for me right now, trying to get me thrown into the mental ward at St. Mungo’s.” Even as she said it, she knew that wasn’t true. Obviously, Kingsley would do anything he could to stop this ceremony. Ironically, coming after her had literally driven her towards Malfoy’s shelter, made her more determined to take the Malfoys’ side. How upside down was her life that she felt safer in his custody than the Ministry of Magic’s? But she couldn’t forget, would never allow herself to forget, the things that the Ministry had done.  _ Was _ doing. The Malfoys, for all of their faults, hadn’t ever lied to her about who and what they were. 

 

“Why would I make things any easier for them? I have to comply with the law in order to keep my magical citizenship. I don’t have to do one damn thing extra. I’d think you would be onboard with me irking Kingsley.” His scowl faded, replaced with that half smile she was becoming familiar with. He seemed to have really gained control of his temper over time. Able to wrangle his hot feelings even after all that drinking. Proving anyone could change, even Malfoy. 

 

“Not when he decides to take it out on me.” She huffed, not really angry with Malfoy about the whole Kingsley business. The fact that Kingsley considered her vulnerable because of her Muggle background and lack of Wizarding parents was one of many mistakes. She wasn’t some passive damsel to lie down and take the abuse. She would be fighting back. 

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him anywhere near you.” His voice had gone softer, lower pitched, and she believed he was sincere. She wanted to tell him not to worry himself, that she didn’t need protection, but he went on before she could open her mouth, a bit of mirth in his tone, “Besides, tell the truth now, don’t you find it satisfying? Kingsley sputtering and furious, while you stay one step ahead and just out of his reach.”

 

“I was too busy being terrified,” she admitted in a whisper, and he stepped even closer to her, barely leaving a space between them, flicking a glance towards her friends just out of her viewpoint.

 

“I am sorry about that,” he murmured, one hand gently touching one of hers before pulling back. “I had no idea you were so afraid of broomstick travel. Or is it heights?”

 

If she had known this morning that Malfoy would apologize to her for anything, she would have checked the weather forecast for flying pigs. She swallowed her surprise and whispered back, “It doesn’t matter, you couldn’t have known. I’m sorry, too, about fighting you so hard. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

 

“And now? Don’t you feel vindicated? Don’t you feel empowered because the whole thing is blowing up in their face? No matter how many laws they write, plots they hatch, strings they pull; they can’t control you.” Her mind replayed that moment in the library when he’d stood this close to her, looking down, and making her promises. It seemed like these whispered close conversations with Malfoy were becoming a pattern. She felt her pulse racing, her breath just a little shaky. Who knew being this close to Draco Malfoy would set all her nerves on high alert?

 

“Here we are, getting bound. There are no winners here,” she told him, looking up into those beautiful eyes of his. She was aware of him in a way that she had never been aware of any boy. His height and his nearness and the weight of his stare. Was it just because she was thinking of marrying him that suddenly she found him so interesting?

 

He gave her that sober smirk of his, shrugging his shoulders in a careless shrug that said ‘what the hell’ loud and clear. “At least we are taking them down with us.” 

 

Hermione reached up and touched the mark on his throat, the impression of her teeth visible in contrast. “Please, let me heal this.” 

 

He swallowed hard, not pulling away from her touch, before nodding slightly. She pulled her wand, careful to make no sudden movement, and he visibly tensed. Just how many times had he had magic turned on him in an unfriendly way? That was a disturbing thought and yet brought understanding. She knew with perfect clarity that letting her use her magic on him was an act of trust on his part, knew instinctively that it wasn’t easy for him. 

 

She started with the bruise at his throat, remorse keeping her voice low as she cast. The blemish faded to only a slight impression of teeth, a faint mark instead of an angry swollen bite. “When did this happen? I don’t remember,” she confessed in a low voice. 

 

“It was when we took off towards the woods,” he informed her, no hint of his usual smugness in his tone. “I think you were trying not to scream.” 

 

She trailed her wand along his throat, healing the gouges with a flick and swish, leaving only the lightest of white lines behind. Healing could only do so much, some marks would only fade with time. She made quick work of the scratches at his collarbone, examined his hands. leaving them flawless before making her way back up to his face.

 

He was staring down at her, an intense look on his face, and she suddenly became aware of just how close to him she had gotten. She was right up in his space. But she steeled her spine and met his gaze as she raised her wand to heal the bruise on his jawline. The swelling receded, the color faded, leaving his perfect jawline touchable and smooth. She couldn’t help but run her fingers over the skin there, noting the clean-shaven feel of it under her fingers. 

 

She healed some scratches across the high cheekbone before scooting over to the other side to tackle the bruise on his other cheek. This one was worse, and she had to cast twice to reduce the blemish to almost unnoticeable. A sweeping cast, getting rid of a few more scratches, and he was almost looking as perfect as when he’d arrived at her window. She noticed his hair was blood free and realized at some point he must have scourgified it.  

 

“Is that all of it?” she asked, a little breathless, staring at his mouth. He was so close she could taste his outgoing breath when she inhaled. Feel the warmth of him rolling through the space between them. She felt a tickle at her spine and wondered if her friends were looking over, watching her. But she held back her desire to turn and check, instead reaching up to touch his hair, make sure she hadn’t missed a cut or contusion. But her fingers never made contact. Malfoy took a firm step back from her, widening the space enough that he was out of her reach.

 

“Yes, that is all…” He seemed to be breathing harder than before, his silver stare even more intense than usual, and his voice low and ragged. He cleared his throat, straightening his posture further, and continued in a much more normal voice, “Thank you.” 

 

Hermione took a deep breath of her own, recentering herself. Time with Malfoy had that rubber band effect. Every time things got a little personal, a little  _ real _ , Malfoy would pull back from her, emotionally and physically. Would it be like that if she married him? Would he be whispering sweet nothings to her one moment, and the next all business? It was hard to remember that she would be getting this law repealed when she was standing in his house, talking about a ceremony that would bind her magically to him. 

 

She was to be magically bound to Draco Malfoy. Saying it to herself did nothing to make the fact seem more real or believable. She needed to get out of here, find a little alone time and work this whole thing through her mind. Download and process all of this information. Everything from the political mess to Draco’s semi-drunk confessions. It was just too much. She decided right then and there that she wasn’t staying the night. She would go to her parents tonight. Decide on her own whether she would be showing up tomorrow for this binding ceremony of his. Hermione just needed a little more time. 

 

* * *

 

Big Thanks go to LightofEvolution for going through this chapter with me, I own any mistakes! 

 

* * *

 


	12. A Spot of Tea

Malfoy glanced down at his watch and noted the time. “I do have just a few things to do regarding tomorrow's ceremony while I’m here. Please, make yourself at home. I’ll have someone bring tea.” He turned neatly on his heel and strode away in that swift purposeful way of his, and she stood there until he reached the end of the open space and turned to his left, leaving them alone in his house. 

 

Hermione looked over at her friends, expecting to see them all staring at her open mouthed. But they were all huddled together, whispering quietly. She frowned and crossed her arms, watching them but unable to hear them due to the silencing spell. They had that ‘hatching a plot’ look about them, and she wondered if they planned on letting her in on this one. Lately it seemed that Ginny was in on all the plans and Hermione was being left out and it left a sour taste in her mouth. What, there could only be three? Ginny was probably a lot more likely to go along with stupid, while Hermione would question everything and make sure there wasn’t a better, safer, smarter option. Where was the loyalty? Hermione questioning stupid plans had certainly saved their hides more than once. 

 

She took a deep, fortifying breath, pushed her jealousy and pettiness down deep where it belonged and walked firmly into the parameters of the silencing spell. The three of them jumped a bit, clearly startled, and looked around, noticing that Hermione was alone. 

 

“Where’s Malfoy?” Harry asked in a low whisper, despite the continued privacy spell. 

 

“He said he had some ceremony details to attend to and we should make ourselves at home,” she informed her friends, snorting out a little laugh at the thought of them making themselves at home in the giant manor. Yeah right.

 

“He probably had to pee after drinking all that whisky,” Ron added, letting out little laugh of his own, and Ginny twittered along with her sweet girlish giggle. 

 

“Okay, so we have a few minutes.” Harry interrupted, the more serious of the three as usual. “We were trying to figure out ways to get you out of here if you don’t want to go through with it. The contract you signed is not actually binding without the magical counterpart.”

 

“The ceremony doesn’t matter. All it does is buy me time so I can get the law repealed.” She felt like she was repeating herself, but they still looked equally unconvinced.

 

The three of them shared a look before Ron spoke tentatively, “We kind of think the Ministry has a point. We are dealing with the Malfoys here, and I’d never forgive myself...what I mean is…” His ears had turned bright red, and if she didn’t think he was so cute when he was floundering like this, she might have been angry. 

 

“What are you trying to say, Ron?” Hermione asked in a gentle voice. She  _ could _ be gentle sometimes, despite what everyone thought. She just needed to work a little harder than the average girlie girl to achieve soft sweetness. 

 

“We want to check you for mental manipulation spells,” Ginny broke in, her usual candor not at all refreshing in this instance. “You’re clearly not under the Imperius, but the Malfoys might have done something else to make you more compliant.”

 

Hermione sputtered angrily, quite insulted, and Ginny pushed on. “Look, we don’t think that you are being magically controlled. You seem to be your usual logical self. But what if we were wrong and let you do this ceremony without being sure?” 

 

‘Okay’ she told herself, ‘stay calm. This is just your friends trying to look after you.’ She took a deep breath and forced herself to look at the situation from their point of view. The cold hard fact was that they did kind of have a valid point. 

 

“Have any of you practiced these types of spells?” she inquired.

 

“I know a revealing spell that I practiced a lot after I was possessed by Voldemort in my first year,” Ginny said, a slight choke to her voice when she mentioned the vanquished wizard.. “It won’t hurt you, and it will glow purple if there are any spells affecting you right now. Have you cast any Glamours or other spells that need to be disabled?” 

 

Hermione thought back through her day and could think of no spells or charms that would still be attached to her person. She shook her head, trying to portray complete confidence in her friend. She was hotly aware of the ring in her pocket but did not mention it. This was the perfect way to double check. She was reasonably sure that the ring was not affecting her, but this was a good way to make absolutely sure. Still, she braced herself when Ginny stepped forward, pulled out her wand, and cast. The younger witch cast several times, with big, sweeping circles, as she walked a complete circle around Hermione. Finally, she came to a stop back where she had began and shrugged her shoulders. 

 

“You are completely clean. No charms, hexes, or Glamours.”

 

“Well, I guess that is settled then.” Hermione said briskly, wiping her clammy hands down her skirt. “Thank you for your concern.” 

 

“No need to go all formal on us,” Harry laughed as he threw a friendly arm over her shoulder, giving her a firm side hug. “You are not a Malfoy yet!”  

 

She laughed with her friends, pretending to be okay. But inside she was freaking out, just a little bit. Malfoy was off arranging right now for this binding ceremony, and she was still almost completely in the dark about it. He had said the vows were about three things. Fidelity...fine...she didn’t care about sex, and it would be kind of a relief if Malfoy were not humping his way through the castle while he was supposed to be engaged to her. Loyalty...that was a little more foggy...how was she supposed to be loyal to him? Do whatever he said? And what the hell did binding her fate mean? She knew magic sometimes had far reaching and unexpected consequences, and she valued her consistency in making sure that she understood the ramifications of every spell she performed. Her experience with Polyjuice had stayed with her long after her furry face had been fixed. 

 

“Ron, what do you know about old pureblood binding rituals? Malfoy said Fidelity, Loyalty, and Fate bindings would be used.” Hermione interrupted the idle chatter, anxious to understand better. 

 

Ron gave it a few seconds though before answering. “Those are pretty typical. Basically, it means you can’t fool around with anyone else, you can’t betray your fiance, and you can’t murder him.” Ron mimed strangling and started laughing, and Hermione wasn’t even able to fake a giggle. If she had to marry Malfoy, then the possibility of snapping and trying to kill him was a distinct possibility. 

 

“Is it really murder when you are doing it for the good of humanity?” Ginny asked, making a face and starting another round of laughter. 

 

“ _ Betray _ ,” she jumped on that word, ignoring the silliness. “So I can’t go against Malfoy while I’m fighting this law?” She didn’t need to be bound like that.

 

“Uhm, I think it mostly means you can’t tell lies about him.” 

 

Great, Ron wasn’t sure and she didn’t really have time to research. At least, she had a good way to pass the time. She would spend the evening in her library going over those particular binding spells and seeing what their parameters and limitations were. Hermione couldn’t really see any added value to sticking around. She had probably more information than she had bargained for, the boys needed to get back to school, and she needed to get home to sort this all out in her mind. Just as she was about to suggest cutting out before Malfoy got back, she heard him returning. 

 

She spun around, startled despite herself, as Ginny whispered a “finite” to end the privacy spell. Malfoy had a very old, very short, very white haired man with him. After a handful of seconds staring his features coalesced into a recognizable figure, Nicolas Flamel. 

 

“Harry Potter!” Flamel boomed excitedly, bounding up to them and pumping Harry’s hand in a friendly way, while smiling at them all. Flamel had visibly aged since he had surrendered his Sorcerer's Stone but was still surprisingly spry, and his deep, resonant voice seemed out of place coming from such a wizened old man. He also greeted her warmly, and she shook his hand with a polite smile, trying to figure out a way to exit the situation gracefully. She had things to do, but Malfoy was making noises about having tea and ushering them along, and she didn’t want to be rude in front of such a well-respected Wizard.

 

She drug her feet a bit, looking longingly back at the Apparition room over her shoulder and falling behind. Malfoy immediately shortened his stride to come alongside her and leaned down to murmer quietly to her, “Thinking of escaping?”

 

“The boys have to be back to school,” she replied, relieved that he was the one who brought up leaving. “And I have a lot to think about.”

 

“I can unseal the manor so you can leave at any time,” he said with a shrug, as they approached a table. At some point, someone had laid out a nice tea, and she hadn’t even noticed them. She really needed to work on being more aware of her surroundings. “But I’ve brought Mr. Flamel here to answer your questions about the vows tomorrow, so you might want to stay.” 

 

Draco sidestepped her so he could pull out her chair, and Hermione sat down eagerly, suddenly much more interested in visiting with the new arrival. “The Malfoy binding ritual requires the participation of twelve Elder Wizards.” Malfoy continued in a louder voice so everyone could hear. “Nine Wizards maintain the magical net over the sacred space and direct and amplify the magics used, while three additional Wizards preside over the ceremony and bind us. Mr. Flamel has consented to head the binding tomorrow and was so kind as to Floo right over to do a quick bridal consultation.” 

 

A servant materialized, a young lady dressed all in black, to pour the tea as they all settled in, and Hermione gratefully gripped her cup and sipped it black, while everyone else went through the ritual of honey and milk and small talk. She even selected a finger sandwich to munch on. 

 

It seemed like forever for Flamel to get his tea situated just right before leaning back a bit, cradling his cup, and smiling at her. “Part of the magic you have the privilege of participating in tomorrow may even pre-date the Malfoys,” he began enthusiastically. “It’s a magical awakening that few people ever get to experience. I, myself, have not been indulged as it’s reserved for family. The only foreknowledge you can have is that you must only bring the magic inside you.” 

 

Hermione nodded, fascinated. She loved reading about old ancient rituals and magical ceremonies and was slightly excited to hear that this magic was so old. 

 

“Once you reach the binding potion of the evening, things are pretty standard. You will be asked if you are there voluntarily. You will then be asked to vow Fidelity, Loyalty, and Fate...all traditional. Then we will bind you magically to your vows. You will be unable to break the vows unless a disavowing takes place. Finally, Draco will be asked to do his portion and will present you with a token, usually a ring.”

 

She fired off her first question. “What exactly is involved with the three vows, Fidelity, Loyalty, and Fate? What exactly is it that I am vowing? Those are very broad terms.”

 

Flamel gave her an approving nod and took a quick sip of his carefully prepared tea. “Well, that’s the thing with magic. Intent matters. The people involved will determine the parameters of the spell. The person who is directing the magic, me in this case, you, and your binding partner. What I mean when I ask, what you mean when you agree, and what your partner thinks you mean when he accepts your vow. You should spend some time thinking through exactly what these vows mean to you, what you want out of them for you and your partner, and clearly define them in your mind prior to the binding.”

 

That was certainly a bombshell. She was hoping that the definition would be something less than her own ideals about loyalty and intertwining of fate. There was no way that she could vow loyalty to Malfoy and then damage him or his family in the process of breaking this law. He would become like the boys to her, always taken into consideration. 

 

“You mentioned a disavowing, what exactly is involved in that?”  She asked, carefully keeping her tone neutral. 

 

Flamel gave Malfoy a sidelong look. 

 

“It’s not usually something I bring up in a family bridal consultation when acting as an Elder at a binding, you understand.” He went on at her impatient nod, “However, I felt that due to your unusual circumstances it might be prudent. You are not undertaking Unbreakable Vows. If you were able to obtain Draco’s permission and participation, and find at least three Elders who were present at your binding to oversee, then we could undo your vows.” 

  
  


“Would it be difficult to get three Elders to agree?” Hermione asked anxiously, she needed to be sure that this thing could be undone before she went through with it. 

 

“Not necessarily.” Flamel took a casual sip from his tea and continued on as if they were discussing the weather instead of powerful magic that could literally change her life. “I would be willing, provided you had not yet been married and there were no children involved. And I know three or four others who might be persuaded. It’s generally bad taste to discuss it prior to even binding, but we all know your circumstance, and there has been talk in the shadows amongst us.” Hermione nodded, feeling tears burning behind her eyes that she ruthlessly held back. The old man looked down at his tea, taking another sip and giving her a moment to regain her composure. 

 

“In the vein of full disclosure,” Flamel looked back up and made eye contact, his voice deadly serious. “I should tell you that magic of this nature, depending on how powerful it is, will leave a permanent mark on your soul that cannot be completely undone. You will carry some remnant of this magic with you forever.” 

 

“Twelve Elders probably generate a lot of magical power,” Hermione remarked, slightly discombobulated at the thought of having a piece of her commitment to Malfoy with her forever.  

 

“Oh, the magic comes from you. The bride powers the engagement binding, the groom the wedding binding. Each of you must bring your magical signature and strength to the union.” Flamel told her enthusiastically, his excitement breaking through again. She processed that for a few moments, felt the enormousness of the whole thing, and decided to move on. 

 

“What exactly is Malfoy...I mean...Draco’s portion of the ceremony?” Flamel had been so respectful and honest, she didn’t want him to think she was so disconnected from Malfoy she couldn’t even call him by his name while at the same time expecting him to preside over a binding ceremony. 

 

“That really isn’t something I can answer questions about.” 

 

Okay, another hole in her knowledge. 

 

She gave Malfoy a look out of the corner of her eye, wishing that he was not sitting there, listening to every word. He was sprawled back in his chair, this time with tea in his hands, giving her that odd challenging stare of his. The look that seemed to leave her stripped bare of defenses and insanely curious to know his thoughts. The look that made her want to squirm with discomfort and awareness and the feeling that he was judging her from the tip of her curly head to the edge of her sensible mary jane shoes. 

 

“I have to know, are there any spells or enchantments or rituals that could be considered dark magic that I need to be wary of or insist on being changed?” There, now it was out, words and sounds that could not be taken back. She really did not want to insult Malfoy, especially after earlier, but she knew the kind of people she was dealing with and would not consent to dark magic under any circumstances. 

 

Flamel’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Hermione held her breath and very deliberately did  _ not _ let her gaze drift over to Malfoy to see his reaction. It didn’t matter. If he didn’t want to be associated with dark magic, than he should have taken care to never indulge in it. She hadn’t counted on Flamel being offended, but based on his hard expression, his suddenly stiff posture, she’d managed to upset him as well. 

 

“I assure you, Miss Granger, I have never participated in any spells or rituals that would be considered dark by even the most enlightened of standards. Old magic, blood magic, does have its own mind, and magic of this nature tends to shift and change according to the participants. With that being said, the definition of dark magic usually includes coercion, manipulation, mind control, or harm. The Malfoys highly value their brides, and the spells they use in both the engagement ceremony and the nuptials reflect that deep respect.”

 

He took pity on her and went on in a slightly lighter tone. “In fact, being honored by being asked to participate in any Malfoy magical proceeding is always a joy. Their family spells and rituals are some of my favorites out of all of the old families. You can rest easy knowing that.” Hermione nodded, quick to accept his take on things and relieved.

 

“Thank you for your candor and honesty,” she murmured, slightly flustered. Insanely grateful to have a cup of tea to bury her face inside while taking a quick drink in order to break eye contact. 

 

Ginny took advantage in the lull to ask a question of her own.  “Is the time and date of the binding ritual restricted? If not, maybe we should just go ahead and get it done. A day doesn’t make that big of a difference. Unless one of you has some plan to squirrel out of it, I don’t see the point in waiting.” 

 

Everyone turned to stare at Ginny, flabbergasted, with the exception of Flamel who just smiled serenely into his tea. 

 

Finally, Malfoy shattered the silence with a non-answer that sounded like an excuse even with his calm even tone. “Hermione's parents aren’t here.” 

 

“They aren’t coming,” Hermione stated, deciding to ignore the downright tingle hearing her first name roll off his tongue sent through her. She let the statement stand alone, having no intention of explaining herself, and she used the moment of uncomfortableness while everyone looked away from her to think it through.  If she went ahead with the binding ceremony, then the ministry had no power to reverse her decision. The deal would be final, and the only ones who could reverse the decision would be her and Malfoy. 

 

“Ginny’s right,” she sighed. “Let’s just get it over with.” 

 

“As flattering as your enthusiasm might be, this isn’t a handful of charms said in front of a ministry drone. We are talking about a very involved highly magical ceremony. My mother can’t just jerk the time around to suit you,” Malfoy bit out, setting his tea down with an angry click and sitting up straight. 

 

“How much additional jerking around does she need to do?” Ginny pressed the matter, leaning forward menacingly, her irritated scowl preceding what Hermione knew to be a very foul temper meltdown. “You’d prefer to have everyone sit here cooling their heels for an entire day so as not to upset your mother’s schedule?” 

 

“What’s the matter, Malfoy?” Hermione taunted, drawing his attention off her friend and back onto her. “Having second thoughts?”

 

“Hell, yes! Aren’t you?” His blunt honesty bled off everyone’s tension, and she found herself letting out a genuine laugh of startlement soon joined by her friends. He scowled around at them. Malfoy never had enjoyed being laughed at. “I’m not saying it  _ can’t  _ be moved up, I’ll just need to check with Mother and see what needs to be done. If that’s what you really want.”

 

“What good will postponing the inevitable do?” she asked, genuinely curious.

 

“Well, I personally was planning on a long satisfying night of panic to get it out of my system before I pledged myself to you indefinitely and sealed those vows with magic.” His bleak off color humor kind of hit her from left field. She’d never heard him make jokes before and wasn’t sure what to think. Then again, based on the serious look on his face, maybe he was completely serious. Still, she decided to go with the lighthearted bit.

 

“I’ve already done my panicking, Malfoy, try not to procrastinate in the future and you won’t run into problems like this.” He barked out a half laugh, shaking his head and looking away from her. Ron apparently thought she was hilarious and began to laugh along, but Harry remained silent and tight lipped. She met his eyes, and he gave her a half shake of his head. Harry was right, she probably did need to give this a bit more thought. She couldn’t really see any alternative that was appealing, but she didn’t want to make another mistake by rushing. And she could definitely understand and empathise with Malfoy’s hesitation. 

 

“I suppose tomorrow is soon enough,” she said softly, hesitantly. “I do have a lot of thinking to do.” 

 

Ginny was not having any of their excuses however. “We just did this big whole escape from Hogwarts thing so the binding could go forward, and now you are both dragging your feet?” 

 

“If I may interject,” Flamel reached for another finger sandwich as he spoke. “It shouldn’t be all that difficult to pull in the remainder of the Elder’s scheduled for tomorrow early. It would be my pleasure to arrange.” He nodded politely at all of them, going on. “I’ve spoken to Narcissa and been assured that all the preparations are in order.”

 

Hermione watched the old man as he took another sip of tea, obviously enjoying the simple pleasure, slightly bemused. 

 

She could learn a thing or two from a guy who just took the time to enjoy tea and sandwiches instead of getting all worked up about a hundred things he couldn’t control. She wanted to improve herself, but maybe her goals were too scattered. Maybe she needed to focus on just one thing and work on that continually. For a moment, she considered possibly really putting some effort into being in the moment, soaking up enjoyment from the little things, instead of always looking ahead and twisting her mind up trying to plan. As content as Nicolas Flamel seemed with is tea and company, she thought maybe that sort of outlook would drive her batty in about four hours. 

 

Hermione turned back to the group, only to find they were all staring at her. She hated being the center of attention, and it seemed like everyone’s eyes had been on her all damned day. She pushed down an irrational spurt of irritation and opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Ron.  

 

“If Hermione hasn’t made up her mind, we don’t need to rush her! Tomorrow is soon enough for this unholy ritual. I’d rather wait ten years till never if I had any say in it,” Ron continued to snarl under his breath, wilting under a hateful stare from Ginny. 

 

Ginny slapped him on the back of the head and spoke over Ron’s grumbling. “If we have an information leak, then the Ministry will know when you had planned on the ceremony and be here to run interference. If we have it early, then we avoid all of that drama.”   

 

“I’d love it if the Ministry decided to show up here and disrupt an Official Malfoy Secret Ritual. This is Sovereign Malfoy Property, and there are special laws that protect us while we are on our private grounds. Just coming here uninvited with hostile intentions could technically be considered an invasion and invoke all kinds of unpleasant consequences.” Malfoy drawled, with just a hint of that drunken glee he had displayed earlier. “Be the best engagement present ever to toss a handful of Ministry drones in our dungeon pending the court proceedings.” 

 

Sovereign Malfoy Property. What precisely did that mean? Just what kind of legal protection did Malfoy have? She would have asked such questions too, if Ginny hadn’t pushed on relentlessly. Ginny could be very single minded when she wanted to.

 

“If Hermione is vulnerable until this ceremony cements her protection, then we need to get it over with as soon as possible. It’s stupid to risk her safety with delay,” There was a real hint of distress in Ginny’s voice, and Hermione knew that her friend was genuinely worried about her. She decided to shut this debate down, after all, she had already decided she was going home to think tonight and would not be persuaded otherwise. 

 

“I’ll be perfectly safe at my parents house. I want to give the vow portion of my engagement serious meditation as Mr. Flamel has recommended, and if Malfoy is certain that there will be no interference from the Ministry tomorrow, then I’d prefer to not rush the ceremony.” 

 

Hermione got that usual warm feeling in her stomach when Flamel gave her an approving nod. She always did like to have authority figures approve of her and had learned to give that need for validation less weight in her decisions, but it was still nice to receive it. 

 

“I do think that is wise, Miss Granger.”

 

She gave Flamel a nod in return and a grateful smile and got up from her seat, all business, now that a course of action had been decided. “You lot need to get back to the school. Harry, do you know if the Honeydukes’ secret passage is still open? You should all be back in classes, pretending to be none the wiser about where I’ve been.”

 

Harry climbed to his feet as well, a serious expression on his sweet face, a determined look she had seen before. “We actually have some errands of our own to run while we are out.” He glanced at Ginny, reminding her that they intended to announce their pregnancy today. “Ron can come with us as moral support, we can all say we have been busy with our own drama.” 

 

She might have protested, tried again to get her friends to see reason, but their audience kept her quiet, and she turned to Malfoy instead. “Do you know where the Honeydukes secret passageway is then?” 

 

“I’ll be staying here,” Malfoy announced, getting up and gesturing them towards the Apparition room. “Family emergency excuse works just as well for me as for you, and I won’t be able to concentrate on my classes anyways.” 

 

Hermione had no comment about that. She made her way with the others to the exit while chewing over in her mind all that she had learned today and trying to organize her thoughts. There was a lot to think about, not the least of which was that she was embroiled knee deep in a political power play against her will. Pair that fact with the list of personal confessions she’d heard from Malfoy today, and her brain was likely to implode trying to process it all. 

 

They came to a meandering stop, and Malfoy slapped his palm on a silver plaque on the wall and muttered a spell. She was reminded that he had casually mentioned that the manor was sealed, so one could assume that he was opening the manor for transportation. A shiver went through her as she contemplated the fact that she had essentially been a prisoner here, unable to leave, and yet had felt completely safe and secure. Despite her best intentions, and words to the contrary, apparently at some point her subconscious had decided that Malfoy was at least somewhat trustworthy. Tomorrow they would take vows declaring loyalty, seal that trust with magic. She ought to be terrified right down to her toes. Instead, she found herself almost looking forward to the event. At least it would be an end to this back and forth internal war in her mind about whether or not she could trust him. She’d have a magical vow protecting her. 

 

Malfoy was shaking Flamel’s hand, thanking him, and she pulled herself out of her thoughts to do the same. He strode to the middle of the Apparition room, gave her a final saucy wink that had her smiling fondly and was gone in a blink. She gave her friends each a hug, assuring everyone again that she would be perfectly safe and would go nowhere except her parents secure location and back here. The three of them held hands, planning to side along, and Harry whispered a simple “see you tomorrow,” before the three of them winked out of sight. Somehow, Malfoy had managed to earn a thimbleful of her friends’ trust as well, since no one questioned leaving her alone with him. 

 

“Are you certain you won’t consent to having a security team escort you to your parents?” he asked, leaning casually up against the door frame, not really blocking her but enough in the way that she’d have to scoot by him to get out. 

 

“You seem awfully sober,” she commented dryly, noting his perfect balance and clear eyed gaze.

 

“Yes, my loose tongue convinced me a sobering potion was in order.” He smiled down at her in a self deprecating way that was disconcerting to see on his face. She had never pictured Malfoy as the type who could acknowledge any self flaw or blunder. “I was an idiot to indulge in a mind dulling substance while I had you to contend with.” 

 

She felt herself blushing and looked away from him, biting her lip, embarrassed. She’d never been good at accepting a compliment and positive words about her intellect always filled her with a peculiar mixture of pride and self-consciousness. It was certainly mind altering to have Malfoy of all people say so many pleasant things about her in such a short span of time. She had a feeling she would be picking apart every word and glance and tone later tonight in her own neurotic way. 

 

“I don’t think poorly of you,” she found herself confessing. He had been honest with her, admitted that he respected her. Hermione had spent days obsessing about getting engaged to someone who despised her. Hearing that Malfoy thought well of her, despite their differences, swamped her emotionally with relief. She didn’t want him thinking that she hated him or scorned him. She wanted the air cleared before they got engaged tomorrow. “Your fierce loyalty to your family is something to be admired and I truly am sorry that I jumped to conclusions earlier. It wasn’t personal, I was just distressed.”  

 

“Well, it’s not like I’ve never been an ass,” Malfoy admitted. “I’m hardly a saint so I shouldn’t have been surprised. But thank you, for saying so.”

 

“Okay then,” Hermione wiped her nervous hands down her skirt and was reminded that she wore Malfoy’s cloak. She started to take it off, return it to him, but he stayed her hands.

 

“Keep it, it’s cold out.” 

 

She didn’t know what to make of that. Suddenly, keeping his cloak seemed like some sort of gesture. She was reminded of the muggle practice of girls keeping a boys jacket or sweater and wanted to surrender the cloak immediately. But she couldn’t think how without being rude. He reached out with gentle hands, pulling the hood up, adjusting it around her face. Words tumbled around her mind, haphazard and disjointed, but none made it to her mouth, and she felt like she needed to say something, react somehow, but she stood there stupidly and let him straighten his cloak a bit before doing up the buttons. 

 

Having sufficiently bundled her up, Malfoy leaned in close. Her heartbeat sped up, beating wildly, as time seemed to slow down. She’d obsessed constantly about being kissed by Malfoy since the moment she’d learned he had bid on her, and for a split second, she thought he was aiming for her lips. Paralyzed, she braced for it, half wanting it, half terrified, but he didn’t kiss her. Instead, he placed those full lips of his next to her tingling ear and whispered, “Safe travels,” before stepping back and aside. 

 

Taking a shuddering breath, relieved and disappointed at the same time, she forced her feet to move. One in front of the other, until she reached the center of the room. She turned to face him, nervous and overwhelmed, and he nodded at her in goodbye as she turned on the spot and Apparated to her parents’ house in Australia. 

 

* * *

 

Happy New Year to all my lovely readers. I appreciate all of you and your support so much, you have no idea how much it means to me that people are really enjoying this story. 

 

Also, as always, I want to take just a quick second to send my love to Lightofevolution who read through this chapter quickly and efficiently to make it ready for human consumption. Thank you so much!

  
  



	13. Getting There

Hermione blinked and reopened her eyes to the familiar sight of the Apparition spot in her parents’ home. A counter hung in the air, giving her thirty seconds to verify her identity, and the whole space glowed a warning red as the spells she had put in place ramped up to deadly force. She swayed a bit, a tad dizzy from long distance Apparition but didn’t allow herself too long to recover. There simply wasn’t time. She slapped her hand on the wall in the proper spot, leaned in to have her retina scanned, and murmured the proper wandless spell immediately. The ominous protective magic building around her dissipated into the ether with a pop, and she was left standing in a regular seeming dark closet full of coats and shoes and winter gear. Relieved and slightly sick, she leaned up against the door and gave herself a few minutes to get recentered.   

 

Her parents were early to bed, early to rise type of people, so with the time difference they were most likely abed. She was as quiet as possible opening the door and taking a peek into the hallway. Just to be sure, she checked the kitchen and the living space, finding them empty and dark, before shutting herself in her room. Despite having spent the summer in the space, it still felt bare and cold. Her things were here, but the white walls and cramped quarters didn’t feel like home. She missed her loft at their old house, with it’s bright painted walls, spectacular skylight, and parents who trusted her. 

 

She opened the window, placing her wand as a beacon to summon a public works owl, and sat down at her desk to write a quick missive to McGonagall, letting her know about the ‘family emergency’. Her bag was probably still sitting in the common room of Gryffindor tower, so she was without her notes and lists. As irritating as that was, she was terribly grateful that she had been so thorough with her security measures. Any government official who got nosy would only find school work and romance novels in her things. 

 

She took off Malfoy’s lovely cloak, her room being quite toasty, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her messy braid was haphazard and had a leaf stuck in it. She plucked out the leaf, dismayed, and stared at her wrinkled uniform, her chapped lips, and her pale complexion. She couldn't care less about Malfoy’s money and prestige, looks were of no importance, and she certainly had no desire to doll herself up. Still, she wished she hadn’t gone to Malfoy Manor looking quite so disheveled. Oh well, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like Malfoy wanted to marry her because she was some sort of beauty queen. He knew what she looked like before he bid on her. 

 

Looking at herself in the mirror did put to rest that wild crazy notion she had fleetingly entertained that Malfoy had been going to kiss her.  _ This _ was not a look that inspired rich snobby boys to kiss you. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, remembering him getting closer, her breath coming faster in anticipation, her usual ordered thoughts going sideways. Not backing away, not stopping him. Then having him slip past her lips to whisper in her ear. She could still feel his warm breath on her lobe. Why had he done that? Why would he get so close to her? 

 

Obviously he was trying to mess with her head. The question was why? Nothing he had said about the law, or why he was bidding on her, or what his plans were required any sort of physical closeness or intimacy. She rather liked his cold, distant approach that ended with them getting this law repealed and going their separate ways. Maybe it was just because she was female, and he was used to kissing females goodbye on the cheek, and then realized at the last second that he shouldn’t be doing that. Right, Malfoy was hardly going to get her confused with one of those socialite girls in his circle that expected such gestures. 

 

An owl arrived at the window, and Hermione noted his promptness with a pleased hello and a treat as she placed her note on one leg and payment in the pouch secured to his other leg. She made an imaginary tick on her mental list. McGonagall contacted. Next, reading material. She made her way over to her bookshelf and muttered a revealing spell. The dust covered rows of muggle classics faded and revealed her real collection. Hundreds and hundreds of books shrunken and stacked ten rows deep. She used her wand to summon three books she thought would be of use regarding magical binding spells and ended her reveal spell. 

 

She toed off her shoes and flopped down on the still unfamiliar and too hard mattress, and her mind immediately began to pick apart her day. It seemed like ten days worth of events and information had been packed into mere hours. She tried to concentrate on the legal and historical mess that Malfoy had explained to her, but for some reason her stubborn brain kept getting caught on other things. Stupid things. Things that had no bearing or importance. Things like the sound of Malfoy’s voice when he had called her by her first name. She’d always hated her rather original name because it made her stand out, but the way he said it made it sound like a beautiful name. A melodious name. 

 

He had called her other things too. Beautiful, naive, powerful, kind, gracious. 

 

Malfoy spoke to her, about her, like he knew her. All of that conviction he had was wrong, she was none of those things. She was socially awkward and irritating. Not an influential publically beloved person. That was Harry Potter. She was smart, she knew that without a doubt, and pretty enough that she could look okay when she put a little extra effort into her appearance. Hardly the exciting, beautiful, interesting person Malfoy portrayed with his pretty words. The Hermione Granger that Draco talked about didn’t exist. Was that really how he saw her? How disappointed he would be once he got to know her in truth and found out he was really engaged to a boring, neurotic, worry wart.

 

He’d also said she was a piece of work, quick to judge, was smug and superior, and called out her hypocrisy when it came to following rules, so maybe he hadn’t completely lost the plot. 

 

She closed her eyes and thought of him standing close to her, looking down, all of his attention focused on her. That felt intimate. She had had hundreds of whispered conversations with the boys, and not once had she felt that type of weird nervousness racing through her veins. That awareness of just how close she was to someone else. She’d never before noted how someone else’s breath tasted, felt someone else’s presence like a physical caress, had someone’s touch brand her skin. Her mind shied away from the memory of her limbs tangled with his as they hovered on the broomstick, fear blooming at the back of her throat despite being safe in her room. That moment did remind her of something else to consider, though.

 

Malfoy wanted to protect her. He had literally declared it out loud with both words and deed. Openly admitted the reason he’d bid on her in the first place was to help her. He’d let her fight him on the broom, taking her kicks and her hits without letting her fall. He’d shown up to rescue her from ministry interference twice now. Was constantly offering her security. First he’d said he protected his own, then declared she was someone he was willing to protect. He said that the ceremony tomorrow would douse her in protection spells. Just what the hell was she supposed to make of that? 

 

Overwhelmed, Hermione turned on her stomach and cracked a book. She would do some reading and try to reorder her thoughts later when the emotional kick of all this wasn’t so fresh. The book she had chosen was about wizarding traditions, and she flipped through the pages until she found a section on weddings and settled in to read. 

 

* * *

 

Hermione opened her eyes suddenly and felt a brief moment of panic. Her whole body seized up, and she reached for her wand before remembering that she was safe at her mum’s house and breathed a sigh of relief. She must have fallen asleep reading. Face down, drooling into her book, for who knows how long. She rolled over onto her back, groaning softly and carefully turning her head to stretch. Her neck was definitely going to pay the price. She supposed all those sleepless nights had caught up to her. The sun was streaming through her windows, and even though it felt like the middle of the night, she realized it was probably late afternoon in Australia. 

 

She got up, poked her head out of the door to see if anyone was about, and then padded down the hall to the loo. She did her business and went to the kitchen to make some warm milk. As she suspected, no one was home. Her parents were likely at work and didn’t even realize that she was home. The kitchen in this little flat was much smaller than their old one, and she had to rummage through drawers and cabinets to find what she needed to put her milk on the stove. Everything about this place made her homesick. Even the familiar middle of the night ritual of a warm drink was tainted by the unfamiliar kitchen chairs and the daylight reflecting off the white surfaces and bouncing against her tired eyes. 

 

She made her cuppa, went into the living room, flicked on some mindless tv show, and curled up on the couch. At least this piece of furniture was worn and comfortable and almost the same shade as their old couch. She sipped slowly, trying to narrow down the topic of her potions thesis in her mind, until her eyelids began to droop. She checked the time and realized it was a little later than she had thought. Closer to five in the morning in Britain, and her parents should be home soon. No matter, she didn’t need to be up this early, and she had enough stress going on right now, and she really had no desire to explain to her parents why she was here. So she rinsed her cup and made her way back to the bedroom, pulled back the covers before getting into bed this time. Her warm cup of milk had never failed to put her back to bed, and despite her plethora of issues, it was easy to close her eyes and drift off to sleep again. 

 

* * *

  
  


The afternoon found Hermione rummaging through her closet. She had no idea what she should wear. The note from Narcissa had said proper attire would be provided. So she didn't need to come up with some fancy engagement ceremony dress, thank God. But she was going to Malfoy Manor, and who knew who all would see her before she got changed. If she had been coming straight from school, she could justify her school uniform, but since she was home that was out. Normally, if she was going for casual, she would wear a jumper and a pair of jeans and trainers, but obviously that was inappropriate for going to a wizard gathering. 

 

Hermione had taken a quick shower and braided back her hair, even putting on a bit of light pink gloss so her lips didn’t look quite so pale and pinched. That was as far as she had gotten however, now, she was drawing a blank. She didn’t have much in the way of casual wizarding clothes; she couldn’t wear her fancy dress robes, that would be too much, and everything else she had was Muggle. Finally, frustrated, she started pulling on a knee length floral belted dress. She liked it because she felt it made her look like an adult instead of twelve, like all her little girl dresses hanging in her closet, and the Malfoys would just have to get over the Muggle flare. They knew what they were getting into before they chose her. Besides, the sleeves were long enough to tuck her wand along her forearm for easy access. 

 

Finishing up, she slipped on kitten heels that she hated but went with the dress and dug around in her jewelry box until she found a gold chain. It was perfect to secure the engagement ring and long enough to tuck into her neckline. And then she stood there in front of the mirror. She had kept busy, ticked things one by one off her mental list. Avoided the notice of her parents, check. Complete rough draft of potions thesis, check. Read up on old blood magic, check. She had even cleaned her very clean room. But now, standing there in front of the mirror, there was nothing left to do except Apparate long distance and go through a highly magical binding process with Draco Malfoy.

 

‘It’s going to be okay,’ she told herself. ‘This is just a formality, and I’ll be unengaged and free before I know it.’ There was nothing to be frightened of. This was just magic. And she had been assured that this was beautiful magic. She fondled her ring under her dress and went through every scenario she could think of. 

 

Fleeing the magical world, choosing someone else, getting pregnant, going to Azkaban. 

 

This  _ really  _ was the best plan. 

 

Determined, she made her way to the hall closet, which was the only place in the flat that would allow magical travel. As she closed her eyes, preparing to Apparate, she couldn’t help but realize that the thing that frightened her the most was the anxious anticipation she was feeling in her stomach at the thought of seeing Malfoy again.

 

* * *

  
  


She wisely chose to Apparate in stages, so as not to be so nauseous when she arrived at the manor, and each magical burst had her just a little more nervous. By the time she opened her eyes in the Malfoy Apparition room, her knees were practically knocking together. She stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped together taking calming breaths. The doors were both open like before, and she was immediately bolstered to see her friends sitting in the same little seating area. Encouraged, she stepped out of the room and was greeted by the same uniformed girl that had served her tea. 

 

“Welcome back to Malfoy Manor, Miss,” she curtsied deeply, and Hermione had to resist the wild urge to curtsy back. “May I escort you to the reception space?”

 

“Uhm, no, I’m just gonna…” She pointed lamely at her friends and scurried on over to the group where she was greeted with warm hugs. They sat and leaned in close, Ginny immediately asking how she was feeling. She had no idea how she was feeling so she gave a nervous shrug and got another hug. Ron scooted in close to her and took her hand, and if she had sat there even one more minute, she would have said to hell with the whole scheme and asked Ron to run away with her. Fate, however, intervened, and Narcissa Malfoy arrived on the scene.

 

Somehow, Hermione had forgotten just how lovely Malfoy’s mother was. Her porcelain skin, her flowing blonde hair, her flawless smile. She was the very picture of classy sophistication, and Hermione immediately stood to greet her. Narcissa leaned in, took one of her hands in greeting, and air kissed her on each cheek. “Hermione, how nice to see you again.” As if she was an old friend. 

 

Hermione rummaged around in her brain and managed to call up some manners. “Mrs Malfoy, you have a lovely home.” The woman beamed at her as if she had said something clever and wonderful. “You remember my friends Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Ginevra Weasley.” 

 

“Of course, of course. Welcome, welcome! Thank you for coming. Now,” she took Hermione’s arm and started strolling, motioning for everyone to follow her. “The schedule for today is fairly light. Your guests will be provided with an informal tea in the east garden while you attend to purification. Then, we will begin the binding ceremony which is blessedly short but exhausting for the bride. We do have a lovely spread prepared for supper, but if you must get right back to school, I understand.”

 

She glanced back at her friends, several times, including them politely as she spoke. “This whole ordeal has been quite interruptive of your studies, and my Draco has made clear to me how distressing that is for you.” The whole act of strolling along arm in arm with Narcissa Malfoy as if they were old friends and today was just a lovely little get together was absolutely surreal. Hermione resisted the urge to pinch herself or exchange amazed glances with her friends. If she let herself make eye contact with Ginny especially she might start laughing uncontrollably and never stop. 

 

The woman paused for a moment, and Hermione realized she probably ought to say something. “That’s very kind of you.”

 

They had arrived at some downward stairs, and Mrs Malfoy led the way down swiftly, chattering on about the days schedule. The woman was all light-footed energy and quickness, and she found she had to really stretch her legs to keep up. This was where Malfoy got his quick walk, she realized; he had spent years keeping up with Narcissa Malfoy. Despite herself, she pictured a young boy, short little legs, running to keep up with his mum as they went out for the day. An adorable mind picture that she should not associate with the full-grown Malfoy. 

 

The bottom of the stairs found a very young male servant, maybe fourteen, waiting for them and fidgeting with his starched uniform. They came to a stop and Narcissa let her go. “Michael will take your guests down to the garden, and I will walk you to the purification pool. Hermione, at this point, you will need to surrender your wand to your steward and any other magical items you have with you.” 

 

The ring around her neck seemed to burn as she pulled out her wand, flipped it over, and handed it to Harry. She had been told no wand, so she was mentally prepared for this moment.  Still, her hand lingered too long, and when she finally released her grip, it was with one finger at a time and with a wildly beating heart. The last time she had been without her wand had been in this very location, and despite Narcissa’s welcoming attitude and her consent being obtained to even come, she had that trapped feeling resurfacing at the edges of her psyche. 

 

The group allowed her time to compose herself before Harry leaned in and hugged her. Followed by Ginny. Ron waited his turn and gave her a fierce hug as well, whispering in her ear, “See you on the other side.” And then she was turning, resolute, to gesture Narcissa to lead on. She made herself take firm steps, to not waver, to not look back. She wasn’t walking to the guillotine. Dozens of Malfoy brides, including Narcissa, had endured this magical binding with no seeming ill effects. She would be fine.

 

She told herself her anxiousness was just a product of her own tendency to blow things out of proportion and tried to keep her mind focused on her surroundings, so she would not be lost. When Narcissa had said down, she’d obviously meant literally, since she immediately led her down another set of wide stairs. The next floor was all redwood leather, more along the lines she had expected of Malfoy Manor, but there was no time to linger. Narcissa was casting a revealing spell that captured Hermione's complete attention. The woman’s casual use of magic highlighted Hermione's awareness that she, herself, did not have a wand, and her palms fairly itched with the loss. A stone door was revealed in the middle of a panelled wall, and Narcissa pulled it open easily, gesturing her through. 

 

What followed was a series of stone steps, tight turns, and more steps. Hermione was not sure, because the deeper they went, the less standard the stairs became, but she estimated they were at least four stories below the ‘dungeon’ of the manor when the narrow hall opened up into a warm brick and stone space. There were layered rugs, fluffy towels, comfy chairs, and a large steaming blue pool in the center being fed from a natural spring. She leaned around Narcissa to get a closer look and noted the pool had rough stone steps descending into its depths. Narcissa led the way inside confidently, and Hermione followed with a much slower step.  

 

“We used to do this ceremony clad only in light,” Narcissa laughed as she held up a long white silk gown. “You can think the Malfoy men’s tendency towards jealousy for that ridiculous practice being aborted. Still, in order for the magic to work properly, anything you take with you has to be completely natural, devoid of magic or bloodshed. This dress is made of a very special, cruelty free silk, by our own weavers. The silk worms are probably treated better than your average Hogwarts student.” 

 

She laid the dress back down, over a fluffy towel, letting out a sigh. “Did you bring my ring with you?” 

 

Hermione pulled the ring out of her neckline, rolling its weight around in her hand for a moment.

 

“Can I ask you something a little bit offensive?” Hermione asked. She really ought to leave well enough alone, but that was not her nature. 

 

Narcissa gave her a wry look, oddly familiar, and Hermione realized she’d seen that look on Malfoy a dozen times. “More offensive than your questions about our ‘dark magic marriages’? Why certainly, go right ahead.” 

 

Hermione was swept with embarrassment, realizing that Malfoy must have spoken with her about the consultation. And yet, Hermione was comforted. This seemed like a much more genuine woman than the hostess who had greeted her in the sitting room. 

 

“Why do you want me to wear your ring? I’m only Malfoy’s…. _ Draco’s _ temporary fiancée. I’m not the girl he’s going to marry. Don’t you want to save it for your  _ real  _ daughter-in-law?”

 

“That may be true. We are working hard to overturn this law. But it also might not be true.” Mrs. Malfoy said quite candidly, fingers rising to twist a strand of pearls strung around her throat.  “We might fail to get the law overturned in time and the two of you will marry. Hope for the best, but plan for the worst. And really, marrying you is not the worst thing that could happen.”

 

“I think Malfoy being forced to marry me is probably up pretty high on his ‘worst things that could happen list’.” Hermione blushed and looked away, unable to keep eye contact. It was one of the things that immediately had bothered her about this law and Malfoy’s proposal. To expect her to be married to someone who had always hated her, who loathed her, who thought she was filthy. It was beyond cruel. Even with all of his kind words yesterday -- the fact that her blood status made her an unacceptable bride was still between them, not to mention that whole lack of attraction to her problem. She was no stunning beauty, just plane jane Hermione Granger, cursed with wild hair and simple fashion. She was nothing like the girls she imagined would stir his interest.  

 

“You may have noticed that some of the older, more traditional families are not really all that opposed to this law. It’s the reason they were able to pass it the first place, because the old guard, the ancient lines, liked the idea of adding new talent to their bloodline,” Narcissa answered, seeming to swerve off topic. Hermione didn’t mind, the honest, sincere tone to her voice was interesting. Her facial expressions, the way she moved her hands; it was a bit of a revelation. Draco didn’t take after his father, he took after his mum.

 

“Did you know that Malfoys usually marry for love? It’s a rarity in the old families, and it’s sort of a running joke amongst the brass.” Narcissa gathered a pile towels from a cabinet and laid them out next to the dress as she spoke. “Those Malfoy men with their tender hearts. Some people say the love thing is nonsense, that we simply do things differently to avoid political pressure. We manage to avoid the typical pureblood tendency to marry the most prestigious and to keep our family line more fluid. When the Malfoy heir is shopping for a bride, it ruffles all sorts of feathers. No amount of favors or money or blackmail can secure a girls spot in our family line.”

 

“The truth is`, we let our kids pick their mates. Lucius loves me. I was a love match, his mother was a love match, and his grandmother...and the story told is that it’s always been that way.” She gathered a comb, a spray bottle, and what looked like lotion from the cabinet, setting them precisely next to the towels while she talked. Hermione couldn’t help but just stare back, fascinated. “We really don’t like being manipulated by this law, but maybe not for the reasons you think. It goes against our family values, you see. We believe very strongly in the sanctity of marriage. I, especially, was very upset. I hate seeing my son robbed of his opportunity for true love.”

 

Narcissa directed a smile at her, a bitter kind of smile that she could automatically tell was authentic. “Very upsetting. Still, we did the best we could with what we had. We gathered up the info on all the available witches and took out all of the ones that didn’t meet our most basic criteria. Then I asked Draco to choose who he thought he might one day be capable of loving. He said: ‘I’m not in love with anyone.’ Broke my heart, but never it be said that Malfoy women are not formidable. I pressed him. I said: ‘Please Draco, do your best, for me. Pick someone you think you might be capable of loving, one day, under the right circumstances.’” 

 

She turned back to the cabinet, gathering loofah and exfoliant. She waited until she had placed them carefully by the other supplies before she went on. “He picked  _ you  _ immediately out of a pile of witches spread out all over the entire world.”

 

Hermione knew she was staring, mouth hanging open, but she couldn’t seem to put in the effort to contain her shock. For a moment she let herself process that declaration and then dismissed it. There was no way in any version of events that Malfoy looked at her and saw any possible love match. Letting his mother think that was all well and good, but if she had to guess, she would guess that Malfoy chose her just for the reasons he said he did. He wanted someone with whom he could easily break ties with, someone with whom he knew where they stood. This story was heartwarming and all, but Malfoy was just comforting his mother. 

The woman went on, her tone changing back to a more no-nonsense tone. “In the event that your engagement is annulled, I would like my ring returned to me. Now, because there can be no magical items we can not magically alter your dress. My seamstresses did the best they possibly could based on your photo, but I think your actual bust is a little larger than we planned. It will be acceptable though; I don’t think you will be showing too much cleavage and ample breasts are certainly a positive attribute.” She held out her hand as she spoke, and Hermione fished the ring off her chain and dropped it in Narcissa’s palm. Without ring or wand she felt absolutely bereft.

 

“Let's get you washed and dried, shall we?” Narcissa rang a small bell and almost instantly two serving girls, dressed identically, arrived. 

 

What followed was one of the weirdest, most embarrassing things she’d ever done. The two servants stipped her and helped her into the bath while Narcissa chattered about the salt in the pool and how it would purify her body, mind, and spirit. She was doused and scrubbed and washed. The Malfoy matriarch sat in one of the comfy looking chairs and directed, keeping up a steady stream of information about why they used certain scrubs, herbs, and other ingredients for her cleansing, acting as if having some girl naked and bathed in front of her was a daily occurance. She realized about halfway through that Narcissa actually had a fondness for herbology and that she wasn’t just giving her info to have something to say. She actually cared about the subject.

 

Since Hermione had never been naked in front of another person, one’s mother didn’t count, this whole process managed to completely distract her from her upcoming binding. The maids acted so professional, so nonchalant about seeing her in the nude that she couldn’t protest. Narcissa too acted like it was no big deal. So Hermione concentrated on the occasional mindless response to Narcissa’s chatter, not dying of embarrassment, and not giving into the constant urge to cover herself. 

 

Far sooner than she could have imagined, she had been dried with enormous fluffy towels and helped into the gown Narcissa had shown her. One servant made adjustments while the other brushed her long hair, and finally Narcissa was satisfied.

 

“You look lovely dear,” Narcissa gave her a gentle smile (that Hermione thought might be a rare expression for her) and gestured to the mirror to take a look. 

 

Her hair  _ did _ look particularly nice. The saltwater and soothing herbs that had been used to treat her left her with tight shiny curls that looked soft and touchable and without all the frizz fell almost to her waist. Her skin was glowing and healthy all over, and even her lips had been exfoliated so they were plump and smooth. It was the dress that caused Hermione issues. She hadn’t been provided with bra or panties, and even though the layers of silk covered her modestly from v-neckline to ankle it molded around her flesh in a way that made her feel downright exposed. Her unbound breasts looked even larger, her hips wider. Her curves seemed emphasized despite the voluminous amount of soft fabric. “Are you sure I shouldn’t wear a bra?” she queried nervously, and Narcissa shook her head. 

 

“This is the traditional look,” she explained, reaching out and adjusting one shoulder of the gown a tiny fraction of an inch. “Emphasizing your womanliness. There is nothing to be ashamed of here, this is the body that will give life one day.” 

 

Narcissa turned away, giving her a moment to get her blush under control, as she pulled out her wand and uttered a spell that revealed an archway in the wall framing a wide tunnel with a stone floor. 

 

Narcissa turned to her, grasping both of her hands tightly, the weight of her grip surprisingly strong. 

 

“There are things no person learns until they stand in this room,” she began, and Hermione immediately understood that this was part of the ceremony. “This is the ‘Path of Knowledge’. Once you start down this path, you can not stop, the magic will not allow you to turn away. Not everyone is meant to be on this path. Most people go on about their daily lives and never realize that they do not truly know themselves. Some people think they want to know, but when they look inside themselves, they can not live with what they see. Some people start down this path and are never seen again. Some people come to end of the path and their own mind has deserted them. Some people regret the knowledge they gained when they walked this path. You can choose to not know by walking away, but once you know, you can never unknow. We have found no memory charm that can undo the consequences of walking this path. Do you choose to go forward?”

 

Hermione didn’t know what choice she had. Other girls might have a choice here, but she really didn’t. It was this or go back to the ministry circus. She looked down the stone path that seemed to stretch on forever into the darkness and nodded her head once. 

 

“You have to follow the path alone. Be steadfast and fearless, and we will see you again on the other side, Hermione Granger.”

 

Narcissa leaned forward and kissed her, skin to skin, first on one cheek than on the other, before she let her hands go and left the way they had come, taking the servants with her and leaving her on her own.

 

* * *

 

This chapter is dedicated to Theo. He generously gave up time with his new human Lightofevolution to allow her to be able to read through this chapter and make corrections. Thanks Theo! 


	14. The Magic of Commitment

The path Narcissa had indicated was made of large flat stones, smaller stones marking the edges. After a dozen or so steps the rough stone walls narrowed into a corridor and she found her way marked with eerie, blue flamed torches. She was obviously headed in an upward direction, but the temperature had dropped enough for her to be slightly chilled in her bare feet and ridiculously floaty attire.

 

Far more disturbing was the taste of magic in the air. Every step seemed to resonate with a shiver, and she had the rather weird sensation that each stone pulsed, adding to the magical atmosphere as she trod on it. The closer she came, the more powerful it felt, and by the time she reached the end of the corridor, she could feel eddies and currents of something swirling around her, tugging at her dress and hair, dripping from her limbs.

 

The corridor opened up to a circular garden, abounding with greenery and flowers, and lit by the same eerie blue light as the torches. It pulsed from the walls and from thousands of lit candles shoved into every nook and cranny, but most of it seemed to come from a still pool of water that lay directly across her path. There were nine high seats around the perimeter, occupied by nine hooded people that she assumed were the elders she had heard about. They were holding their wands aloft and chanting so low in a soft soothing tone she couldn’t make out the words. She looked for Malfoy and saw him across the way, standing alone at a stone altar and watching her. The glow of his white blond hair made him unmistakable, but the eerie light cast his features into shadow despite how close she was.

 

She made her friends out, seated, past Malfoy on some sort of stone chairs. No one spoke, and the magic around her seemed to be waiting, waiting for her. Narcissa’s words from earlier echoed in her head ‘be steadfast’,  so she took a deep breath and stepped out into the impossibly beautiful space, staying on the path. A few steps in, and the magic she had been feeling became visible. A slightly greenish blue glow, radiating out from her steps, twisting around her as she walked. She recognized it as her own magic, but it did not feel as if it was leaving her, merely expanding. She felt drawn along the path, her usual, chaotic thoughts calmed, her emotions focused, and on some level she knew she was being affected by the magic. That this calm purpose and intent void of her earlier anxiety and nervousness was not the truth of her emotions. But instead of fighting it, she embraced it, relieved that she wasn’t panicking and running.

 

She approached the first of three stone arches dripping with greenery. A hooded old stranger stepped out of the shadows, blocking her way. Instead of being startled or nervous as she would be normally, her feet simply came to a stop as if she had planned it and she waited.

 

“Will you give freely your breath of life?” he asked and held an odd stone container up to her.

 

The magic around her seemed to whisper knowledge without being heard. Hermione leaned forward without further instruction, and blew slowly into the container, somehow knowing this was required.

 

The man produced a match and set fire to her air, and it glowed a soft gold as it burned. He turned and held the flame to the arch, setting the whole thing alight with warm, golden flame. He bowed to her and stepped out of her way. Instinctively, she knew the fire would not burn her or her dress and boldly stepped through the arch. She felt the magic wrap around her like water, clinging, and then sinking inside her. The power of life and vitality and youth. Her own potential. Time seemed to stretch and flex and stop as she took that one step, and when she emerged on the other side, she was more aware of her own magic and her own power than she ever had been.

 

She was drawn on down the path by destiny and need, her heartbeat loud in her ears, her feelings too intense to separate them into emotions. The chanting from the elders positioned at the stones was a little louder now, and the visible magic that she had created while walking the path was now weaving its way between them, creating a net of power that was arching over the space. As she approached the second arch, a second hooded man stepped out of the shadows and blocked her way. He held a shallow stone bowl up to her.

 

“Will you give freely your body of life?

 

The magic whispered without words, and Hermione reached up and plucked a single strand of hair from her temple, coiling the silky length, oddly heavy with the blue-green glow of her magic, inside the bowl. The man produced a match and set fire to the strand of hair, and it glowed a deep, burnished gold as it burned. He turned and held the flame to the next arch, setting it alight with the same burnished, golden flame, deeper and richer than the first flame. The man bowed to her before stepping aside, and Hermione pushed forward through the arch. The magic was heavier, thicker this time and enveloped her completely, sinking inside, become a part of her. The power of knowledge, and curiosity, and determination. Strengths she knew she had but now felt deep inside the pit of her stomach, stretching out to each toe and finger. Emerging on the other side of the arch, she felt centered and purposeful.

 

The blue-green aura, her magic manifested in reality, pressing around her, was now so dense she could feel the weight of it as she made her way to the next arch. It was like wading through light, syrupy and sticky. Heavy and dense, going into her lungs, it seemed to strain against itself to touch her, caressing her face, her bare skin, her hair. Everyone was aglow with the light coming from her now, and she was amazed at the vastness of her own power as it encircled and carressed every person, every stone, every flower, lighting up the entire space. The pool between her and Malfoy seemed to be soaking it up, thirsty, like a drowning man. Malfoy, her destination, stood still as a statue, waiting for her, bathed and caressed by her magic. She held his gaze as she approached the third and final arch before she was blocked by Nicolas Flamel. He held a stone vase up to her, full of the glowing water from the pool and containing a single blood red rose.

 

“Will you give freely your blood of life?”

 

The magic whispered to her, she could almost understand unheard voices. Hermione reached out, her limbs slow and heavy, pushing through the pulsing, magical atmosphere to prick her finger on a single sharp thorn. Her blood shone red and wet as the rose pulled in her magic from that spot, soaking up her essence, changing color to a brilliant glowing blue before Flamel produced a match and set fire to her rose. The glow of the golden fire was brilliant and blinding, but she didn’t look away as he set fire to the arch, lighting up the entire space with golden flame. He bowed and stepped away and Hermione stepped into the arch, eager to feel this magic, to know its power.

 

She felt like she was falling in reverse through time and space as she was drowned in passion and love and loyalty and need and wanting. Every powerful thing she had ever felt battered her on all sides, amplified by a million and one, filling her to bursting with emotion. She was overwhelmed by the strength of her heart, the focus of her love, the purity of her desires.

 

This was the source of her magic, she realized.

 

Her passions and wants and desires were what fed her massive power, drenching this entire space. She felt completely connected to every single corner of this magic of hers, and when she reached the other side, she felt invincible, unstoppable, drunk with her own potential and aware of who she was and what she was capable in a completely new way.

 

She locked eyes with Malfoy, feeling closer to him than distance allowed. He stood across the length of water, drenched in her essence, her magic, and she understood. Understood that this ceremony had unleashed her coiled power, set loose her potential, all so that she could _know_ it. She could see a faint echo of his aura, a recognition in his gaze, and she knew he had walked this path as well. That he had been introduced so intimately to his own soul, and heart, and magic. That sure calm way he seemed to know himself was not just arrogance, he truly _did know_. Even if they dissolved this partnership tomorrow, she would forever be grateful to him for allowing her this profound and life-changing experience. The value of this knowledge paled in comparison to the troubled events that had brought her here, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt she was exactly where she was supposed to be at exactly the right time, with exactly the right people.

 

Hermione soaked in this experience for a handful of heartbeats, feeling very close to her intended despite their distance. He knew this feeling she was having. This overwhelming power. This all-enveloping merging with her own magic that had swept through her, leaving her clean and breathless and _aware_. She belonged up there at the altar, beside him, binding herself to him.

 

Her magic propelled her forward; she could almost hear her name on silent whispers, and without hesitation she followed the path into the water, which welcomed her unreservedly. It swirled like light around her ankles, her calves, her waist as it made room for her within its depths. She reached the center of the pool, where Narcissa waited for her, dressed in a pure white robe that pulled in the light and reflected it against the brilliant blinding of the glow of the water as it intensified.

 

Narcissa raised a stone chalice filled with the glowing water and tipped it over her head.

 

“I wash you clean of any and all sin you may have ever committed. Your soul, and mind, and body, are cleansed and renewed by your own power, and you stand before us purified and brand new.”

 

Hermione shivered as the water cascaded over her, the warm magic washing over her from her scalp to her toes, bleeding out into the pool in waves of light. The elders around her paused their chanting to intone a spell she didn’t recognize, and she felt the spell wrap around her for a moment before disbursing. Narcissa dipped her chalice in the water to refill it before pouring magic over Hermione’s head again.

 

“I wash you clean of all obligations, loyalties, and ties you may have had. You come to us free and unencumbered by any oaths or bonds or prior contracts.” The magic this time was just as warm, and she felt a weird lightness in her spirit and her chest as she seemed to focus inward. She owned herself, and she was the only one who had any ownership over herself. Obligations she didn’t even know were so heavy were lifted away, leaving empty places inside that were slightly sore. Her magic rushed into her, filling those spaces, making her whole.

 

The elders intoned the spell again, this time even more powerful. It squeezed her from head to foot before seeming to break apart and fall off of her. She watched fascinated as Narcissa dipped the chalice yet a third time, and her whole body tingled with anticipation when the woman lifted the water over her head, drenching her yet again.

 

“I wash you clean of all heartbreak and sadness and grief. Find the fortitude within to forgive yourself any misdeeds. For you are no longer the person you were. You must let that person go, let your old self die, and embrace your new knowledge of who you are,  what you want, and what you are capable of.”

 

Hermione was no longer passive, accepting her power and using it. She felt tears on her cheeks, her breath choked and wet, as she accepted this gift and instinctively pulled her magic around her...letting it inside, letting it cleanse her. She felt the pain from old hurts and new hurts falling away, and when she lifted her head to look at Narcissa, she did feel clean and brand new as the elders chanted the spell again. No longer did magic touch her and cling to her and fall away; she chose to accept the spell, examine it, let it touch her. A strengthening spell that focused her mind and her magic. And it was good.

 

The magic throughout the room and inside her pulsed with her newfound power and purpose, and she could almost feel the stones beneath her feet trembling, the air vibrating with the strength of her.  

 

“You stand before us now, a woman who truly knows her own mind, her own magic, her own value. You have walked through the fire of your own soul and found yourself worthy. You have come to the end of the path walked by those who seek the truth of who they are and have learned all you can from your past and your present. All that remains is the future. From this point on, the unknown stretches out before you, and you must find your own path. Armed with the wisdom you have acquired, you must choose the way you will go. You may choose to join Draco Malfoy at the altar and bind your magic with his, choose to forge a path forward with him, choose to accept him as a partner in your future. Or you may choose to exit this place with no further obligation to our family and no ill will. Choose wisely, Hermione Granger.”  And with that resonating statement Narcissa bowed to her and moved aside, clearing the way.

 

It wasn’t hard for Hermione to make the decision to walk toward Malfoy. Of all the people involved in this mess, he had been the only one to value her choices. He hadn’t tried to force her to do a single thing. Maybe he was super-sensitive to the issue after his experience with Voldemort, she didn’t know, but why didn’t matter. He had offered her shelter from the storm and had promised her that if the storm abated, she could walk away from that shelter if she wanted to.

 

It was enough. It was _everything._

 

For the first time since her foot had touched stone, Hermione felt like her mind was sharp and clear, her emotions her own. That lack of magical interference only added to her comfort as she mounted the stairs and joined Malfoy at the altar, leaving a wet trail behind her as water dripped from her body.

 

His gaze was riveted on her, hot and intense, and Hermione refused to look down. The heavy silk of her dress was wet and clinging, and though her heavy, dripping hair offered her some cover, she was sure that the material had probably gone at least partially opaque. She maintained eye contact, insanely grateful that his gaze did not dip down and rove her whole body. But he wasn’t blind; he couldn’t help but see. The only shield for her modesty seemed to be his gallantry, and she shivered with the cool of the air on her wet skin and the hard stone under her feet. As she joined him and turned to him, he gave her a wink before lifting a heavy white cloak draped over the altar that she hadn’t noticed, stepping into her space, and wrapping it around her.

 

The warmth of the cloak enveloped her, and she sighed in pleasure as he fastened the closure at her throat. She watched fascinated as the magic that had been swirling around her, touching her, expanded its area of concentration to include him. She could feel it touching him, wrapping around hard muscle and quivering skin, touching his heartbeat and his breath. He was as barefoot as she was, dressed only in loose white pants that left him naked from the bellybutton up. He was beautifully muscled, the light dancing on pale skin, marred only by the remnants of her fading bitemark. Completely in-tune with her instincts, she didn’t hesitate to reach out, touch that spot on him, feel the slightly raised skin, watch as he swallowed hard under her fingers.

 

“Join your left hands,” a voice intoned, and she realized that the people who had helped her on the path had joined them at the altar.  

 

Malfoy raised his left arm, extending his upright hand to her, and she noticed the unblemished skin there. She had heard that he had somehow gotten rid of the Dark Mark before his trial and was vastly relieved to know she would not be forced to touch a remnant of Voldemort's evil. She raised her left arm to meet him, interlocking their fingers, and was not surprised to see her own unblemished skin. Her Mudblood scar had ceased to be when she had let go of past pain. She wondered if that was how Malfoy had rid himself of his tattoo. If it had just no longer been part of him when he became new again. She fiercely hoped so, that the man standing before her right now had no part of him inside or out that was twisted by that evil.

 

Malfoy noticed where she was looking and twisted their combined arms a bit to see. He tugged her a little closer, bent down, and placed a chaste, sweet kiss on the skin where her scar used to be. Branding her with the impression of warm lips and soft breath for a heartbeat before standing upright again and giving her an unrepentant small grin that had her pulse doubling and tripling in her chest. What the hell did that mean? She felt her cheeks burning, her breath coming fast and uneven, and resisted the urge to look over at her friends, at _Ron_ , and see what reaction they were having.

 

“Do you, Miss Hermione Granger, come to us of your own free will, clear of mind, and with full knowledge and understanding of this magical binding with Draco Malfoy?” Nicolas Flamel asked in a loud voice, interrupting her thoughts.

 

She almost said ‘I do’ but bit back those iconic words and instead said “yes” in a clear, firm voice that carried. One of the elders slipped a red cord around her left wrist, knotted it, and then looped it around Malfoy’s wrist as well.

 

“Do you, Draco Malfoy, come to us of your own free will, clear of mind, and with full knowledge and understanding of this magical binding with Hermione Granger?” Flamel asked Draco.  

 

His lips tugged a bit, perhaps fighting a smile or a frown, before he echoed her with a firm “yes.” Another cord, this one a blinding white, was knotted around Draco’s left wrist before being looped around her wrist in perfect symmetry.

 

The nine elders intoned a powerful binding spell as one, and the cords glowed golden for a moment in response.

 

“Do you, Hermione Granger, willingly bind your chastity and fertility to Draco Malfoy from this moment forward?”

 

Malfoy’s eyes burned with an eerie silver glow, and she refused to look away even though she knew her cheeks were burning again. She whispered a “yes” past a throat gone tight, and her elder made a new set of loops with her red cord, creating an infinity symbol stretching between them.

 

“Do you, Draco Malfoy, willingly bind your chastity and fertility to Hermione Granger from this moment forward?”

 

He didn’t hesitate or blush, simply repeated the same firm “yes” from before. His elder repeated the looping with the white cord, and now the infinity symbol had been doubled, and the two cords were intertwined with each other. Another binding spell rang out from the nine elders and the cords absorbed it for a second, glowing a deeper, fiercer gold that reminded her of the arches.

 

“Do you, Hermione Granger, willingly bind your loyalty and your trust to Draco Malfoy from this moment forward?”

 

She had thought firmly about what she wanted those vows to mean last night and this morning. But, standing here, she knew that her heart was bestowing a purer, deeper meaning to those words. Still, she couldn’t back down, didn’t want to. So she maintained eye contact and whispered another “yes”. Her elder looped the cord again, and she fancied she could feel the physical weight dragging her to the floor. She wanted to shout at him to hurry, to get it over with, but his movements were slow and deliberate.

 

“Do you, Draco Malfoy, willingly bind your loyalty and your trust to Hermione Granger from this moment forward?” He hesitated. It wouldn’t have been noticeable at all, the mere three seconds where he seemed to be staring down into her soul, if he hadn’t been so quick to reply before. Nonetheless, his “yes” was just as sure, just as firm, as his previous vows. He didn’t blink or look away, seeming calm and assured as his elder worked another loop around their wrists.

 

The elders intoned the spell, their bindings glowed gold, and Hermione felt the magic crawling up her arms and down her thighs like an itch. Her own magic was gathering again, concentrating itself around them, glowing brighter. It felt like her magic was gathering its power to strike.

 

“Do you, Hermione Granger, willingly bind your fate and destiny to Draco Malfoy from this moment forward?”

 

It seemed so final, so permanent. In the back of her mind, a small voice was reminding her that he had told her that these vows could be broken. This was not an Unbreakable Vow, merely a binding, and it could be reversed. But with her magic wrapped around her, his hand warm and steady in hers, so close she could taste his breath when she inhaled, it didn’t feel temporary or fake or silly. It felt enduring and intoxicating and downright spiritual. She couldn’t say yes if she didn’t mean it. She was winding her fate with his fate right this moment. Maybe they wouldn’t be married, but this experience could never be undone...it would be part of her forever. And so would he.

 

The “yes” that slipped off her lips was a promise from her heart. The new loops her elder was wrapping around their wrists felt heavy with the weight of her sincerity.

 

“Do you, Draco Malfoy, willing bind your fate and destiny to Hermione Granger from this moment forward?”

 

His “yes” was just a solemn, his earlier half grin long gone, and he squeezed her hand a bit harder, as if he felt her need for reassurance. The elder finished looping Malfoy’s white cord, and then the two men tied the two cords together, creating one long length physically binding them together before stepping back.

 

This time, when the elders intoned their binding spell and the cord glowed gold, the color did not fade. Instead, the power in the room swelled and swirled around them, and the cord grew warm, almost hot, and blindingly bright before it dissolved into golden bands of light around their arms. Searing her without pain, marking them, sinking inside. She felt the vows she had taken wrap around them, race along the golden light of their binding and then settle inside her, now a part of her. Her chest squeezed tight with the weight of it as the magic bound her to her words before it dissipated in a shower of sparks and lights, leaving her skin unblemished and her hand unmarked, fingers still entwined with Malfoy’s warmth.

 

“A woman’s trust, loyalty, and fertility are gifts of incomparable value. Do you wish at this time to reciprocate these gifts by extending the protection of your life blood and the sanctuary of your family line?”

 

“Yes,” Malfoy replied immediately, and Hermione wondered if what he was doing was required in order to fulfill the traditional clause of the Ministry law, or if some men refused this part of the ceremony. All the times Malfoy had offered her his protection over the last several days banged around in her skull, and she felt no resistance in her heart to this gesture.

 

“Draco Malfoy, take a knee,” Flamel instructed, and he dropped to the stone in one graceful move without letting go of her hand. “Extend your right hand.” Malfoy raised his arm, palm upwards, steady as a rock, and if she hadn’t been holding his hand so tightly, she would have no idea that his pulse was racing uncontrollably. Her eyes widened with recognition as the golden ring she had so regretted parting with was placed in the center of his palm.

 

Malfoy must have known what was coming next because he did not flinch when her elder produced a glowing stone knife and swooped in, nicking the hollow of Draco’s throat in one swift motion. Blood bloomed, bright red and wet, but the only indication he gave of pain was to squeeze her hand firmly. The knife was held at his throat, collecting his freely flowing heart’s blood in groove of the blade. Finally, when the knife was filled from tip to shank, the blade was carefully pulled away. Malfoy’s elder reached around from behind him to rub a dark black substance, which she thought might be ashes, into the cut, stemming the bleeding.

 

The knife was carefully lifted high for all to see and tipped, the blood slowly leaving the knife one drop at a time and flowing straight down to her ring as though following a path in the air. Flamel began a spell in Latin, joined first by Malfoy, then the two elders, and finally voices all around the room. Repeating the magic words over and over, lending their power to her protection.

 

Her Latin was not perfect, but she recognized a few words. ‘Praesidium’ she knew meant something like protection. ‘Vita’ was life. ‘Sanguis’ was blood. She could be wrong, but she was certain ‘aeternum’ represented eternity or forever. Regardless of her level of comprehension, her understanding was perfect. She recognized the magic building in the air, twining and binding and cutting through her own magical aura that still pervaded the entire space. This was the spell that had given her ring that wonderful aura of protection, love and safety.  Her ring did not let a single drop of life escape, pulling the red drops around itself in a spinning haze, while it slowly absorbed Draco’s promises.

 

Much to her embarrassment, she felt tears pooling in her eyes as she stared down on him. The magic of that ring was some of the most beautiful enchantments she had ever come in contact with. To have this person, who was once her enemy, on his knee, wrapping those sacred spells around her was profoundly humbling and poignant. She could feel his intent as strongly as if she was holding the ring in her hand, and his feelings were as benevolent and pure as anyone’s who had ever cast on that ring in the past. They might not be pledging forever, but his purpose to protect her right here, right now until she released him was resolute and determined. It was everything she had ever wanted in a union, and for this brief moment between them, she couldn’t be more fulfilled. When her ring had absorbed every drop of blood, he twisted her hand and slid the ring on her finger where it belonged. A perfect fit.

 

He rose to his feet as her ring bound itself to her soul, to his promises, and to him. She felt the weight of his protection, the sincerity of his devotion, the significance of their bond wrap around her like a warm cloak and settle into her bones.

 

“You are sealed to each other, one in purpose, one in spirit,” announced Flamel, “May the fates smile on your future union.”

 

Wands rose as one, then came down, pushing her magic down with it. She was connected with every particle of her essence and felt wild spasms of energy when suddenly that magic was rushing about, gathering speed, condensing, coiling first around the both of them and then focusing on her. Channeling itself back into her. The light died as it entered her, and the force of it rocked her on her heels. She grasped at Malfoy to have something solid to hold onto and absorbed her magic all at once. She would have fallen to her knees if he hadn’t been holding her up, and she clung to him fiercely as the aftermath rocked through her, leaving her panting and exhausted.

 

It might have been minutes or hours or days before she opened heavy eyelids to look around. The garden was lovely, but shrouded in darkness. Her friends stood carefully unmoved, all waiting for her to gather her composure. Hermione had never been so tired in her entire life. She needed Malfoy’s support as she tried to get her legs underneath her enough to leave the altar, head down the stairs, and collect her wand. It felt like she had run a marathon while dragging a horse behind her. Despite shaking badly and leaning on Malfoy heavily, Hermione felt nothing but intense determination to lay her hands on her wand once more.

 

Harry knew what she needed without a word and held her wand aloft as she approached him. She felt a bit of strength seep back into her as she reached out with cold fingers and grasped her wand. Her new intimacy with her magic extended to the wand, and it greeted her like an old friend, seemingly giddy with excitement that she was finally able to recognize it completely. She pulled it to her chest, swaying with exhaustion. The last thing she remembered was how safe she felt when Malfoy stooped a bit to lift her into his strong arms bridal style as she burrowed into his chest. There was no anxiety at all about closing her eyes and giving into rest.

 

After all, Draco was there to safeguard her.

 

* * *

 

Big round of applause to LightofEvolution who went through this chapter lightning fast so you could all enjoy it! Thank you so much.


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